


Moments in Time

by JPeterson



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Angst, F/F, Not Canon Compliant, Romance, Slow Burn, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-05-28 14:09:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 57
Words: 96,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6332236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JPeterson/pseuds/JPeterson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There have been precious few moments in Piper's life where she has found herself thoroughly unable to come up with a single thing to say; most of them in recent memory and embarrassingly often around this particular woman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Moment 001: Second Fiddle

Blue is a packrat. She gives a little roll of her eyes whenever Piper dryly points that out - _”I'm a scavenger, thank you.”_ \- but she really is, because scavengers... _scavenge_. They pick and choose; they don't just grab everything that isn't bolted down, lug it halfway across the Commonwealth to a settlement and scrap the lot for parts.

It's great exercise, if nothing else; especially since Piper usually ends up carrying several extra pounds worth of random junk herself, just to keep her friend from breaking her back.

It's also obviously worth it. The settlements that Blue essentially plays one-woman caravan for are probably the most well-supplied ones out there aside from the few, established cities; built as well as anyone can with what little technology and knowledge is available, all self-sufficient and protected by walls and towers and guards armed and armored by yet more of Blue's 'scavenging'.

The children of those settlements have more toys, Piper thinks, than the ones living in the Upper Stands of Diamond City. She doesn't waste the breath to ask Blue why she makes such an effort to _not_ scrap those, or why she makes sure that there's always a small collection ready for a new child in every settlement.

The answer's pretty obvious, and the toys aren't that heavy, anyway. It's worth the effort to have all these kids so much better off than she was, way back when.

Piper considers making an offer to look over the guard postings and patrol plans since she _did_ learn a good bit about that from her father – enough that she also had a hand in the layout of Diamond City's defenses – but with every new settlement they visit, it becomes increasingly obvious that she doesn't need to. The outer defenses are evenly spaced and the inner, worst-case-scenario ones strategically placed. Even the weapons are spread evenly among the guards; long-range for the outer towers and short-range one-helluva-punch for those that'll be right in the line of fire.

She isn't even surprised that all the tactical planning is Blue's handiwork, too. It's becoming increasingly apparent that there's nothing this woman can't do.

“I didn't know you were a soldier, Blue.”

That earns her a look up from those very plans; from a crudely drawn local map spread over a table in the middle of the structure that serves as the central hub for this particular settlement. The look is warm and wry and a little amused, and Piper is suddenly very aware of how late it is and how alone the two of them are; of how warm the lighting from the few lamps is, and of how the only sounds are those of two sets of breathing, the night outside and the occasional, far-off murmur of the guards' voices.

“No more than anyone else out here,” Blue says, and drops her gaze back to the map while Piper finally regains the presence of mind to breathe. “But I did pick up a few things from my husband, I suppose.”

Right; her husband. Piper drinks from her glass and tries to get her wits about her. “Wow,” she drawls. “Pillow-talk at your house was interesting, huh?”

A pencil bounces off of her shoulder for that remark, and Piper snorts and throws it back in exchange for another eye-roll.

She watches Blue make notes on the map in the hand-writing of someone who was taught not just to write, but to write _beautifully_ , and reminds herself that she really needs to get over this stupid crush.

There's no point in playing second fiddle to a ghost.

 


	2. Moment 002: Friendship

Blue is... so out of her depth. It's not obvious; at least not, Piper thinks, to most people. More often than not, she takes everything in stride, which is one hell of a feat considering how big of a switch this must be for her; essentially entering the Post-War Commonwealth mere hours after having lived all of her years in the utopia that was her world before the bombs fell.

Sometimes, there's a look in Blue's eyes like she's hoping that this is all just a bad dream that she hasn't woken up from yet. That look is rare, though, and when Piper spends some time at home with Nat while Blue is off chasing mercenaries, she has the time to wonder how much of that Blue just pushes deep down and tries to ignore. She's seen that look too, after all; seen her crouch by a dead raider who just seconds ago was trying to kill her, gently close his unseeing eyes with a brush of her fingers, then take a breath, scavenge his corpse, rise and square her shoulders.

And she is _trying_ to get over this crush, but Blue – unaware though she is – really isn't making it easy. Selfless people who simply want to _help_ are so, so rare in this world, and the genuine care and concern that Blue stubbornly continues to display for everyone and everything keeps sucking her in.

That's part of the reason that she's home in Diamond City now, while Blue is away somewhere with Valentine; that need to just... get some kind of a handle on herself. To deal with these _feelings_ that are never going to amount to anything anyway, and get them out of the way before she ends up revealing them by accident and potentially ruining the best friendship she's had since she was a child.

She misses her. She's happy that she gets to spend more time with Nat, of course, and there's a nice kind of comfort in being home where every face is familiar and she can pull her Publick Occurrences persona on like an old, well-worn sweater, but... yeah. She misses Blue. So to say that's she's surprised to see Nick Valentine in the city market late that evening would be an understatement.

“When the hell did you get back?” she sputters, and firmly tells herself that the jolt in her chest _isn't_ because Nick's presence means that Blue can't be far away.

“Couple hours ago,” is the response; accompanied by the detective taking a long drag of his cigarette and an entirely too knowing look in those glowing eyes as they both lean on Takahashi's counter. “You seem surprised. Odd, since our mutual friend told me she was going to go seek you out.” He eyes the cigarette – which looks to have about half a drag left – and lets it drop to the ground while his synthetic lips shape a half-smile. “Apparently she prefers your company to mine.”

“Don't be a dick, Nick,” Piper tells him, and pointedly ignores the almost uncannily human way in which he quirks an eyebrow and overall looks entirely too amused at her expense. “She didn't, anyway. I've been home since I tucked Nat in.”

“Huh.” He pulls a second cigarette from a pack in his pocket and lights it. “Well, it was a tough trip. She probably wanted to be alone for a while,” he muses, and then stands like he has no idea how hard his words are making Piper's stomach clench. “So keep that in mind when you figure out where to start looking for her.”

“Why would I go looking in the first place?!” she yells after him when he wanders off, and growls at the lazy, 'yeah, yeah' way in which his hand waves before he's out of sight. She tries to refocus her attention on the bowl of noodles in front of her but her guts are aching too much for her to eat, and it isn't long before she's shoving away from the noodle stand and stalking through the evening crowd; muttering under her breath about the annoying heat in the air.

She isn't _looking_ for Blue. She just happens to find her when she wanders across the uninhabited part of the upper stands, which is a perfectly normal way for her to wind down after a long day, thank you very much.

She doesn't approach her, though. Blue looks like she's far gone in her own mind; chin resting on her interlocked fingers as she stares unseeingly out over the night-lit view of Diamond City, and Piper watches the moonlight play over her face and wonders – not for the first time – how close the two of them are in age, cryogenic stasis notwithstanding. Blue acts like she's at least ten years older than Piper, but she certainly doesn't look it.

Right now, she looks like she's carrying the world on her shoulders, and Piper lingers in the shadows – out of sight – and tries to figure out if her company would help or just make it worse. She is, after all, another person looking to Blue for solutions and answers, and right in that moment, it hits her that Blue looks like she's carrying the world on her shoulders because in a lot of ways, she _is_. There are precious few people out there that aren't asking her for help – not even among the ones Blue calls friends – and those that _don't_ want her help try to kill her, instead.

Blue never says no; she never backs away, never gives up, and always, _always_ offers a helping hand, a kind word or a smile for those who need it. And that's a humbling thing to realize, because Piper honestly can't think of a single instance where she herself, for instance, has done that for her.

That, she decides firmly, is going to change. Starting now.

“Enjoying the view?” she calls when she finally starts to approach; her tone light and teasing and a crooked grin on her face until Blue's head whips around at the sound of her voice and Piper sees the definite shine to her eyes. “Oh.” _Shit_. “Should I... ?” She juts a thumb over her shoulder in the general direction of 'go away', because as much time as she's spent around this woman and as much trouble as the two of them have gotten into, she can honestly say that she has never seen her cry before.

But Blue gives a wan, little chuckle that stirs the cool air, and wipes her eyes. “No.” Her voice is hoarse enough for Piper to wonder exactly how long she's been up here, but the answer at least brings her stomach back up from the floor by a few inches. “I think I've used up my wallowing quota for the next month, anyway.”

Flippancy has always served her well when she's completely unable to come up with any other kind of response, so Piper falls back on that. “You really don't strike me as the wallowing type, Blue,” she comments as she ambles over and drops to a seat; not too close, of course. “But I guess if anyone had the right to wallow, it'd be you.” The low snort is half wry agreement and half soul-clenching pain, and the sound of it is enough to make Piper's guts ache from the want to just make it _better_. “Are you--” She stops herself there and closes her eyes briefly, because Blue is _obviously_ not 'okay'. “What happened?” she asks instead, and watches a few tiny people wander around the market far below. “Kellogg give you two the slip?”

“Three,” is the immediate, reflex reply, and Piper's lips quirk a little, because of course she'd count the dog, too. “And no. We, uh...” There's the soft sound of shifting fabric when Blue rests her elbows on her legs, and Piper watches from the corner of her eye as she folds her hands between her knees and her fingers clench. “We found him.”

Something tells Piper that Kellogg won't be 'found' again as anything other than a pile of bones. “But not Shaun?” she nudges gently.

“No. Not-- he wasn't with him.” Blue's thumbs twitch; slipping around each other in tiny circles while her head drops and the curtain of her hair casts shifting shadows across Piper's knees. “He's, um... with the Institute. Apparently.”

It feels, Piper fuzzily decides, a lot like taking a full-force punch to the gut. “Blue, that-- that's not funny.”

Blue laughs, but the sound is low and weak and trembling. “Yeah, I know.” One hand – it's shaking, Piper realizes – disappears behind her hair for a few seconds, and then Blue lifts her head and pushes her hair back enough for her profile to be visible; backlit by the moon, but still clear enough that Piper can make out the lingering wetness on her cheeks. “Believe me; I know.” There's a long sigh; misting in the cool air and dispersing out over Diamond City. “I wish I was joking.”

 _Fuck_. There have been precious few moments in Piper's life where she has found herself thoroughly unable to come up with a single thing to say; most of them in recent memory and embarrassingly often around this particular woman. This, sadly, is another one of them; one where her head feels like it's spinning and all she can do is settle a hesitant hand in the space between Blue's shoulders; a useless attempt at comfort where she can feel the stuttering movement of uneven breathing and the subtle shift of muscle and sinew under her fingers.

Taking on the Institute counts as something a little more than just 'trouble'. At the same time, can she really live with herself if she chooses to walk away now? After everything she's told her; all the tall – if true – tales she's told?

It's a remarkably easy decision. Even if it scares the crap out of her.

“You'll find a way,” she decides, and curls her fingers a little against the fabric that has now warmed to her touch. “ _We_ ,” she then corrects herself, and catches both the glance and the faint flicker of acknowledgment. “We'll find a way.”

There's a hand settling on her knee in return; light and warm and clasping softly. “Thanks, Piper.”

“Hey.” She finds a crooked grin and shrugs a little; wondering somewhere if the racing of her heart is caused by the idea of going face to face with the Commonwealth's very own boogeyman, or by the gentle warmth aimed her way by those eyes. “What are friends for, right?”

 


	3. Moment 003: Silence

Getting to Goodneighbor is... interesting. For one, it takes forever, and for another, she learns a lot more about Blue along the way. The entire route seems to be practically crawling with either raiders or super-mutants or mongrels, and by the third avoided incident, Piper has halfway decided that the human senses must have been deadened by radiation over the years. At least, that's the best explanation she can find for how Blue just... notices things.

She learns to notice things, too. There's a certain, sudden stiffness to Blue's shoulders that she quickly learns to mean 'quiet', because the first and only time she misses it, she's yanked into cover with a hand clamped over her mouth, and finds herself pressed bodily into the shadows cast by a crumbling wall with a set of very intense, very serious eyes boring into her own.

Embarrassingly, there's a single second where she thinks that the moment is something _other_ than Blue saving her ass, but it's thankfully brief enough for nothing to happen before she, too, picks up on the far-off sound of abnormally heavy footsteps.

“Damn,” she mouths when the hand moves from her mouth and instead settles on her shoulder; keeping her in place. “Careful, old-timer; we're not all made of steel.”

The droll look _that_ earns her tells her that apparently the damn woman can read lips, too. “On three,” Blue mouths back; accompanying her unspoken words by first jabbing her index finger down, and then holding up her three middle ones. “Go.” Two fingers pointing to the other side of the intersection, followed by all five of them touching at the tips. “Quietly.”

Piper nods to show her understanding and then – with a smirk – touches two fingertips of her own to an ear, and moves them upwards into a point. She doubts that _that_ particular translation of 'sharp ears' is part of whatever language Blue is currently speaking, but the meaning carries anyway if the brief, inaudible breath of laughter that warms her face is any indication.

The fact that Blue then – with a definite twinkle in her eyes – taps twice at her own temple before pointing to her rear... well, Piper's gonna have to get her back for that one at a more opportune time.

Smartass, indeed.

They make their slow, silent way along the debris-ridden streets; Piper playing guide because she's actually been to where they're going, but also consulting the map in Blue's Pip-boy when needed because it _has_ been a while. At most, they talk at a whisper, so she learns a lot more of those strange little signs that Blue makes with her hands, and to just freeze in place when her companion's face twitches in a certain way, because that means that something caught her attention.

Blue carries three weapons at all times: a pistol at her side that she always has out, a shotgun at her back for when something tries to back her into a corner, and a long-range pipe rifle with both a suppressor and one hell of a scope slung over her shoulder, for the times when her face does that _thing_ that it just did.

Piper allows herself to be nudged into the shadows again – gentler this time, at least - and waits for Blue to drop to one knee and settle the rifle against her shoulder before she follows the line of the barrel and tries to spot what Blue did. She hears, if only barely, the slow, measured pace of her friend's breathing and strains her eyes; just managing to make out a minuscule bit of movement ten stories up and across the street by the time Blue takes another breath, and then holds it.

_Piff!_

The raider's body hits the street with a muted _thump_ only after they've already crossed the bit of space he was overlooking, and by the time the yells of alarm start, they're far enough away for them to be little more than white noise.

'No more than anyone else out here', Piper remembers, and gives her lazily jogging companion a sidelong glance.

Right.

 


	4. Moment 004: Solitude

They end up spending a couple of nights in Goodneighbor, which is fine by Piper. If anyone deserves a little downtime, it's Blue; especially after walking though the memories of the man who killed her husband and getting to witness that all over again. She's not in any real hurry to go trekking through the Glowing Sea, anyway. If Blue wants her along for that.

Blue is frighteningly quiet after they leave the Memory Den; barely saying more than a single word to Nick as he takes his leave, and while Piper doesn't deny that she feels stung by the silence, she tells herself to get over it and books the single, possible room at the hotel before guiding Blue upstairs and into it by the elbow. She leaves her alone there because that's what Blue asks her to do, and ends up at the Third Rail herself because she needs a fucking drink.

Blue loves her husband – present tense, not past – and Piper _knew that_ and has no _right_ to be hurt by the reminder, but damn if it doesn't smart anyway.

Stupid crush.

She gives herself a limit of a reasonably low amount of alcohol; nursing her first drink and wishing idly that Magnolia would sing something a little more cheerful, because she doesn't need to be either drunk _or_ blubbery when she goes back to the hotel and has to share both a room and a bed with Blue.

The limit doesn't stick, and she wakes up the next morning with a head full of half-remembered words and sensations. In Magnolia's bed.

 _Oh, fuck_.

“Relax, darlin',” comes the smoky drawl from behind her, and there's the brief tightening of an arm around her bare waist, and the faint press of a – if she remembers correctly – _gloriously_ nude body against her back. “I can hear your head spinnin' from here. Yeah, we did the dirty. Weren't nothin' more than that.”

“Aha.” Well, that's... sort of relieving, at least, she considers, and tugs the covers up a little higher over her chest. “So I didn't promise you moonlight and roses?”

Magnolia laughs; the warmth of her body shifting away and the mattress dipping beneath them. “Honey, if you had, I wouldn't have believed you anyway,” she returns over the slight creak of springs as she sits and then gets to her feet, and Piper hesitantly rolls onto her back before hastily settling an arm over her eyes.

Gloriously nude. Definitely.

“Please tell me I didn't make a complete ass of myself.”

“Oh, you did,” is the peaceful reply, and Piper groans. “But less so than many others I've seen around here.” There's the sound of shifting fabric and the _click_ of a lighter, and Piper chances a peek to see that the older woman now wearing a robe and sitting by a scratched vanity; one elbow on its surface and a lit cigarette between two fingers. “I've heard subtler come-ons than yours, I'll admit to that, but I've heard far more obvious ones, too.”

Piper chews on her lower lip and studies the ceiling for a few moments. “Do I even wanna know what I said?”

“Probably not,” is the amused reply. “Should I tell you anyway?”

There's a spare pillow next to her, and Piper grabs it and dumps it over her own face before waving a hand in a 'hit me' sort of motion.

“A very nice set this evenin', Ma'am,” Magnolia quotes, complete with the slur that Piper had probably acquired at that point. “Of songs, that is!”

“ _Shit!_ ” Piper presses the pillow down harder over her face now; glad that she at least has that much to hide the fact that she's probably as red as a tato while Magnolia laughs. “Well, that sounds like me,” she admits tiredly; batting the pillow away and scrubbing a hand over her burning face instead. “Smooth as rubble and about as subtle as a punch to the face.”

“You do have your charms,” comes the wry answer, alongside a cloud of smoke that drifts towards the ceiling. “Not sure what's keepin' you from usin' them on the one you _want_ in your bed.”

Damn. If Blue somehow came up, she was definitely a lot more drunk than planned. “It's... complicated,” Piper mutters, because that's the most concise explanation she can come up with.

“It usually is.” Magnolia stubs out her cigarette and stands with a little chuckle. “You'll have to excuse me now, darlin'. I am in dire need of freshenin' up, and since your runnin' buddy is probably wonderin' what happened to you, I'm thinkin' you wanna get dressed too. Privately.” A smirk, and a wink over a barely-covered shoulder as the door clicks open. “Even if I've seen it all before.”

Well, that could've been worse, Piper guesses, and sighs at the ceiling when the door closes again. If she _had_ to be dumb enough to get drowning-your-sorrows-drunk and fall into someone's bed, better that it's at least someone like Magnolia, who clearly sees a one night stand for what it is.

The fact that she actually _was_ that dumb kind of pisses her off.

 


	5. Moment 005: Exposure

It's later than Piper thought by the time she makes it back to the hotel, and not because it takes her a long time to do so; she didn't exactly have the chance to do anything other than simply get dressed, and the two locations are literally right around the corner from each other. The lack of doing anything outside of putting her clothes on and leaving means that she _reeks_ of sex, and since she also has a headache that could probably fell a brahmin at forty paces, she would very much like to do something about both of those before she runs into Blue.

So honestly, she's relieved that the room is empty other than their packs sitting peacefully in one corner, and that there's a makeshift system of running, clean water that lets her uncap a hose sticking out of the wall, get some of it into her dehydrated body, and let the rest trickle into a somewhat grungy, ceramic tub.

Her clothes are going to have to be clean enough since washing them won't be an option until she gets back to Diamond City, Piper decides, but she does leave them by the hole in the outside wall that serves as a window; knowing that the breeze will at least freshen them up a little bit. Soap is something she can find in her own pack – it takes a little digging to get past all the junk she's helping Blue carry – and there's a threadbare towel hanging over the footboard of the bed.

Piper wraps herself in the towel because while it's well late enough to be up, it's also early enough for the air to still be chilly. The tub is taking a while to fill enough for use anyway, so she lingers by the bed and studies the way in which Blue's rifle is laying roughly in the center of it; essentially broken down into its component parts and neatly arranged next to an open, yellowed book on - Piper reaches out and lifts it enough to see the cover – weapon construction. Well, what else?

The water isn't hot when she puts the cap back on the hose and settles the towel over the damaged, makeshift partition that barely separates the tub from the rest of the room, but at least it isn't cold, either. A half-filled tub of lukewarm water will do the trick, so Piper sinks into it, takes a deep breath and dunks herself. Only the trickling sound of the water shedding from her hair meets her when she resurfaces, and she settles back against the age-old porcelain and wipes a hand over her face to clear it; allowing herself the rare luxury of just _being_ for a little while.

She _needs_ to get over this, she reminds herself, and keeps repeating it in the privacy of her own head as she finds the soap and goes about her washing; scrubbing the stink of tobacco and sex and booze from her skin and hair, and maybe doing so a little more roughly that she has to, but dammit, she is _so fucking tired_ of carrying such a torch for someone who has done literally _nothing_ to invite it.

Almost half of the soap is gone by the time she stops cursing at herself, and she stares at it for several seconds before sending it smacking into the wall with a _thunk_ and a muffled curse.

“Fuckin' Blue,” she mutters under her breath, and regrets those words not even a second later; when the only parts of her poking out of the now whitish-opaque water are her knees and her head, and she's craning her neck back to stare up through the holes in the ceiling at the sky above.

Which is blue, because of fucking course it is.

And she's really not being fair, because not one bit of this is Blue's fault in any way. All she has ever done is be the sweet, stubborn, genuinely amazing person that she is, so the only one that can be held accountable for Piper putting her heart where it isn't wanted is Piper herself. She knows that.

Doesn't make it hurt any less, though.

She's halfway to drifting off in the bath to nothing but the peaceful whoosh of the wind outside, but is jolted rather rudely awake by the door being shoved open hard enough to slam into the wall with a resounding _bang!_ The sound bounces around the room and – Piper swears – around the inside of her skull, and she grabs her ringing head with both hands and screws her eyes shut when the sound of stomping feet then joins the chorus.

“Keep it down, dammit!” she growls, and then groans and clutches her head tighter when the steps just change direction and speed up, because yelling is clearly _not_ something she should be d-- “Yow!” She goes from leaning against cool ceramic to being tightly wrapped in warm arms between one breath and the next. It's less of a hug and more of a tackle, which means that she has to grab for anything non-slippery with hands and feet both, and basically sends half the water in the tub sloshing over the edges as she desperately tries to keep from pulling her assailant in _with_ her. “Blue! What the hell?!”

There's a slow, shaking breath next to her ear and a hand cupping the back of her head, and Piper just blinks dumbly at the wall and feels her breath catch when there's a trembling kiss pressing against her temple, because she's pretty sure that Blue just said 'thank god'.

Then she grunts when she's shoved back against the chilled porcelain with enough force to make her teeth rattle, and she's _really_ not having a very relaxing morning today.

“Where the hell _were you?!”_ Blue demands; her voice low and rough and her eyes sparking dangerously, and Piper doesn't think she's ever seen her quite _this_ pissed before.

“Uh, Blue?”

“Jesus _fucking_ Christ, Piper! Don't _ever_ do that again! I thought so--”

“Blue.”

“-- thing had _happened_ to you! I was losing my damn m--”

“BLUE!”

“What?!”

“Naked here! Hello?!” Piper waves one arm in the air and hopes her face isn't as red as it feels. Her other arm, meanwhile, stays safely tucked across her chest. “I'm sorry if I worried you, but can we _please_ save this already very awkward conversation until _after_ I've put some clothes on?”

“ _If_ you wor--” Blue stops there and presses her lips together; the fingers of one hand still pressing into Piper's shoulder while the others pinch the bridge of her nose and her eyes close. One deep breath, then another, and then she releases both grips and holds up her hands. “You're right.” Softly, as if to calm herself, she pats the edge of the tub and nods; eyes still closed. “You're right. I'm sorry.” She rolls to a smooth stand and disappears back around the partition, and Piper is left to drop her head back against the porcelain and try to calm her racing heart.

“Piper?”

She peers up through the holes in the ceiling again, and watches a single cloud float by. “Yeah?”

“... did I hurt you?”

“No, Blue.” It's the truth, but she wagers that she'd lie if she had to, because Blue's voice is so small now that it's kind of breaking her heart. “I've had way worse, trust me.”

“I'm sorry.” Softly; barely audible over the squeak of springs as Blue – she guesses – sits down on the bed.

“Blue, I'm fine.” She gets to her feet in spite of the tub's slippery surface, and when she steps out onto the worn (wet) floor, a glance over the top of the partition tells her – with a clench somewhere in her chest – that Blue _is_ sitting on the bed. In the exact same position as that one night in the stands. “Hey.” She settles one arm on top of the partition and rests her chin on it, and waits for those eyes to meet her own before reaching her other hand out. “Come here.”

There are a few moments of silent hesitation, but Blue finally does rise and approach. She stops a good deal further away than Piper intended, and it takes a few, encouraging crooks of her fingers to get her friend close enough to touch; a bare foot away with the partition still between them. And because she both wants to and – hopefully – is allowed, Piper curls two fingers under Blue's chin; gently lifting her face until their eyes meet.

“I'm fine,” she repeats softly, and takes care to enunciate. “ _We're_ fine. And if you need to hear it, I forgive you. Just don't do it again.” She feels the weight of Blue's head wanting to drop back down, and presses up a little harder with her fingers to stop it. There's something here that seems like it maybe needs closer examination, but she doubts that now is the right time, and so tries to lighten the mood a little instead. “You only get one free pass for unnecessary roughness, lady,” she teases, and winks. “Unless you tell me in advance so I can get in on the action.”

At that, Blue just _looks_ at her. “ _Must_ you devolve a perfectly sincere moment into a crude analogy?”

“Knocked you out of that funk, didn't it?” Piper points out and – somewhat regretfully – reclaims her hand and uses it to brush her hair back. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah.” A nod, and crooked sort of smile that she recognizes as genuine. “I'd suggest that we hug it out, but one of us is a little under-dressed for the occasion.”

It would be so, so easy to turn that phrasing on its head, but Piper decides against it and chuckles instead. “Tell you what.” She snags the towel and curls it around her shoulders. “You give me my clothes and a few minutes, and I'll take you up on that.”

 


	6. Moment 006: Repose

It gets easier after that, to just... shove all those feelings down a little. If that first morning in Goodneighbor proved anything, it is that Blue worries – _cares_ – about her. So much. So what if it's not in a romantic way?

Of course, there are also downsides.

“So...” Blue's voice tickles at the edges of her hearing, and Piper's eyes are rolling already because she _knows_ that tone. “Magnolia, huh?”

Piper fishes a pack of gumdrops from her pocket, and pops one into her mouth before flicking a second in Blue's general direction in exchange for a snort. “Seriously starting to regret telling you that,” she drawls, but doesn't bother to either look back or stop walking.

“Well, can you blame me?” For once, Blue actually has all of her weapons holstered (their little wasteland trek has been remarkably peaceful, considering where they're headed), and now she hops down from the uneven stretch of rocks she's been walking on (“Why?” - “Why not?”); her landing sending a little poof of dust trickling along the dry soil. “You never really struck me as the type.”

Her on-and-off fixation on the subject would be annoying, Piper muses, if her constant, not-quite-hedging around it wasn't so adorable. “The type to what?”

A frown. “You know what I mean.”

She does, but where's the fun in just giving up the goods? Much more entertaining to see if Blue will actually ask outright, this time around. “Nope.” She veers off a little and ignores the exasperated sigh; plucking a couple of mutfruits from the bush she spotted. One is offered to Blue, but a shake of the head has her storing the lot in a pocket on the side of her pack, instead. For later, then. “A good reporter gets the facts, first,” she notes, and pretends not to see the eye-roll. “You gotta give me something to work with, here.”

“You are such a pain in my ass,” Blue grumbles, and at that, Piper can't help but grin.

“You can't honestly tell me that I didn't strike you as _that_ type,” she teases.

A soft scoff, but also a smile. “Oh, no. I had you pinned as that from the moment I met you,” Blue admits easily. “Pretty sure poor Danny is still on shit detail.”

“Mmph.” True, probably, and something she's still trying to figure out how to fix. He really didn't have a choice in being on gate duty that day. “I think we're veering away from the original subject.”

“Hm.”

They continue on their little hike in silence; Blue sporting a thoughtful frown and Piper trying not to show her amusement.

“So?” she asks, and hides a smirk at the flush of color in her companion's cheeks.

Blue sighs. “Isn't it... I dunno, rude?” she questions. “To just ask outright?”

Piper guesses that maybe it was in her time. “Well, no.” There's the _snap_ of dry wood when she yanks off a few thin branches, and stores them. Kindling. “Not to me, anyway. I don't mind telling, but you gotta ask the right questions.”

“ _Fine._ ” Blue rolls her eyes. “You didn't strike me as the type to have a preference for the fairer sex.”

There really should be a law against being this exhaustingly cute, Piper thinks, and bites the inside if her lip hard to keep from smiling. “I don't.”

“You don't what?”

Ah. She's learning. “I don't have a _preference_ for women. I'm very much equal opportunity.”

“I'm going to guess that means men, too.” Piper nods, and Blue makes a pensive, little sound in the back of her throat. “You don't really strike me as _that_ type, either.”

“And what type is that?” she wonders mildly, and lets the smile slip through when Blue frowns. “Holding me up to some antiquated stereotypes, are we?”

Blue stares into the wasteland ahead for several heartbeats, and then her face sort of... scrunches. A little. “You know what, I think I am,” she admits. “I gotta stop doing that, huh?”

“Very true, Blue.” It's not easy to keep a straight face with the look she's getting now, but she manages somehow. “So. What's new, Blue?”

“Please stop rhyming my name with everything.”

“No can do, Blue.” Her grin slips free at the mild shoulder-check. “Geez, Blue; screw you too.”

“I _really_ detest the fact that I can't think of any rhymes for 'piper'.”

Piper just laughs.


	7. Moment 007: Home?

She doesn't see Sanctuary until she's known Blue for what feels like her entire life; something that sounds longer than it is, because that trek through the Glowing Sea felt like took at least as long as Blue spent on ice.

Sanctuary is nice, which surprises her a little considering how long it took Blue to suggest that they actually visit, but she figures now that it was less a matter of the place not being relevant or safe, and more a matter of it not being _comfortable_ for Blue.

This used to be her _home_ , Piper knows; back when everything would have been whole and clean and vibrant, and how would it have been for her to come back that first time? Newly (to her) widowed, her infant son stolen... how raw would that pain have been, to return here and see everything destroyed on top of that? How raw is that pain still, even now?

How would she feel herself if she came back to Diamond City and everything was just... gone?

"Which one was yours?" she asks as they pass through the guarded gate at the end of the bridge and walk up the cracked street. She keeps her voice as gentle as she can because she at least _thinks_ that she's figured it out, and judging by the subtle tightening in Blue's eyes that isn't quite a flinch, she has. Piper half expects to not get an answer at all – there are people crowding around them now; smiling faces and friendly hands all reaching out for Blue – so she's understandably distracted. Hell, Piper is, too, because why are half these people calling her 'General'?

She feels a little left out, if she's honest with herself, but at the same time, it's nice to see how happy everyone is to see her friend. And there _is_ a moment where Blue is talking to a man but those eyes still track to hers, and then flick to one of the – oddly appropriate – _blue_ structures; the one across from the yellow one that seems to be the center of all activity in this settlement.

Piper studies it and smiles a little at how ruined frames of what looks like paintings have been secured to the walls to seal the larger holes, and then turns back to the chattering group and waits.

When she catches Blue's eyes again, she cocks her head – and an eyebrow – in silent question. In response, she gets a mild frown of confusion, then a lift of both brows in somewhat startled understanding, and finally – haltingly – a minuscule nod before her friend then turns away entirely.

Ouch. But she gets the discomfort in basically granting someone permission to invade what must be a particularly painful memory, so she shrugs off the slight sting and walks away; soothed, all the same, by the trust Blue demonstrated by giving her the go-ahead in the first place.

She expects the place to be untouched aside from the haphazard, outside repairs, and is more than a little surprised to find that it is anything but. The room just beyond the front door is as clean as can be expected; the floor swept clear of debris and the salvaged furniture neatly placed. It's even lit – however sparsely – by strategically placed, naked bulbs, and there are wires tracing along the ceiling; kept safely out of accidental reach. The floor is covered in worn rugs, and just by the front door, there is a built-in set of repaired shelves stocked full of books that she remembers seeing Blue secure whenever possible.

Books on science, on carpentry and biology and engineering and agriculture, on weaving and sewing and cooking and combat, and Piper realizes with a breathless sort of pain in her chest that what these shelves hold is a painstakingly collected, neatly arranged library on how to rebuild a destroyed planet.

Down the small hallway, she finds three rooms. The first is a clearly unused bathroom, with the only thing of notice being the mirror, which has a clear, Blue-sized handprint in the middle of its dusty surface. After that is what she figures would have been the room Blue shared with her husband; the only room in the house that is completely _barren_ ; dark and empty and rid of even the faintest signs of human presence, as if Blue can't even make herself use it.

The house so far has been a testament to a life that cannot be rebuilt, and makes her heart ache for her friend. The last room breaks it.

There's no doubt in her mind that this is Shaun's room, and here, she stops in the doorway because entering definitely feels like intruding. Instead, Piper stays where she is; folding her arms around herself and feeling her eyes sting as she takes it in. The centerpiece is an old, blue crib; a mobile with a single, remaining rocket hanging crookedly over the empty mattress. The space is warmly lit – moreso than any other part of the house – and stocked with salvaged shelves and dressers filled with toys and carefully collected comic books.

In one corner is a lonely chair, and Piper wonders if this is where Blue sleeps when she spends a night here; in a shrine to the son that she hasn't gotten to hold in two centuries. Whose first ten years of life and growing up that she has missed; that was stolen from her.

Who she refuses to give up on finding.

"Pain's stronger here, isn't it?" The unfamiliar voice makes her jump, and she hastily wipes at her eyes before turning to the old woman who has appeared by her elbow. "Oh, it's all over this place, but here? That's something else."

"I'm sorry; who are you?" Piper half-blurts, and then feels something in her gut tighten icily when ancient eyes meet hers and seem to stare right through her.

"Your sister's fine," is the answer she gets, which makes her chest give a startled jolt, because how in the world did- "The man in the long coat is looking after her, so don't worry." The age-wizened head cocks at her, considering, before a single, almost completely white eyebrow quirks. "You're the papergirl, aintcha? The kid's friend?"

"... excuse me?"

"You're a little ahead of her right now. She'll catch up, though." A wrinkled hand reaches out to pat her arm. "Don't worry your pretty little head over it, pipsqueak. It'll come."

 _Pipsqueak?_ Piper just stares at her, and tries to figure out if she has ever felt _this_ confused before.

"Mama Murphy?" The sound of Blue's voice is almost ridiculously relieving, and Piper guesses that she herself looks as off-kilter as she feels, because when Blue rounds the corner and sees her, her expression quickly morphs into one of thinly veiled amusement. "Sturges is looking for you. Something about a loom?"

"Nice to know us old folks are good for something," Mama Murphy – apparently – drawls, and gives Piper's arm another little pat. "Patience, pipsqueak," she tells her, and then ambles off. "You're the key."

"Wha-" But the old woman is out of sight before she can even finish sputtering out a single syllable, so Piper shuts her mouth with a faint _click_ of her teeth, and instead turns to Blue; completely befuddled.

Blue, meanwhile, chuckles. "I'm sure I don't know," she offers unhelpfully, and gives a half-grin. "Mama Murphy just says what she sees. She tends to end up right, though, in my experience." Her head cants, then, and she hooks her thumbs in her own belt while sending Piper a curious look. "What were you talking about-" Her lips twitch faintly. "- pipsqueak?"

Piper yanks off her cap and uses it to smack her in the shoulder. "Don't even," she warns, and smacks her again when all she gets in response is a laugh. "I haven't been called that since I was seven years old; I'm not letting it start back up at twenty-two."

"We'll see about about that," is the response, along with a sneer that's too playful to be even remotely threatening. "You dodged the question, Miss Reporter. What were you talking about?"

"Not a clue," Piper admits, and steps back a little to let Blue slip through the door and into the nursery. "Did you tell her about Nat?"

"No?" A puzzled, little glance over one shoulder, and then Blue is sitting down in the dusty recliner and leaning back in it. "Not that I remember, anyway, but who knows what a couple hundred years on ice will do to your memory."

Jokes. Piper would find them insufferable if they weren't at least working as some sort of outlet for Blue, but they are, so she huffs and rolls her eyes and – now – enters the room. Not by much, but enough to lean back against the wall next to the recliner while the silence settles around them. Relatively, anyway, considering the activity outside.

"It's a nice room," she offers quietly, a few moments into the stillness.

"You think so?" Blue chuckles, but it's wistful. "I think maybe the crib needs to go since he's apparently ten, now. I-" Her voice cracks, and Piper settles a hand on her shoulder but doesn't say anything. "I don't know if I can- even bring him back here. I can't- God, I can't even sleep here myself."

"Too many memories?"

"Too many ghosts," is the soft correction, and Piper sends a glance out of the doorway to the bare room across the hall. "Stupid, isn't it?" Blue snorts softly. "Nate's been dead for at least a decade, and I still miss him."

"It hasn't been a decade for _you_ ," Piper insists softly, because as much as hearing that stings, it's a petty, pointless jealousy that she's not about to give in to. "Not where it counts." She squeezes the shoulder under her hand gently, and feels the warmth from the skin beneath the fabric seep into her palm. "Give it time, Blue. It does get easier."

The silence settles again, but this time it's with the added warmth of a head coming to rest against her side, and Piper closes her eyes and cards her fingers gently through the soft hair.

Blue trusts her. That's enough.


	8. Moment 008: On the Hunt

"Fuck!" It's only the faint, familiar clicking that saves her skin, and she barely manages to dodge behind cover before there are bullets pinging against the metal doorway next to her. "Sure, Blue; I'd love to join you," she grumbles mockingly at her earlier self; replacing the empty clip in her pistol for a full one with a smooth, practiced motion of her hand, and wincing when a series of shots send sparks flying off the metal right by her shoulder. "What's a little courser hunting between friends? Shit."

"You're the one who keeps wanting to go find trouble!" comes the call over the sound of gunfire, and Piper glances across the open space to the familiar figure pressing against the wall two doorways over.

And flips her off, which causes a grin. How the hell did Blue even _hear_ her over all that racket? "You need serious spelling lessons if 'turrets' and 'trouble' look the same to you!" she yells back, and lodges a bullet neatly in the forehead of an approaching gunner. "You gonna do something about those things, or are we camping out here for the night?!"

Blue waves a lazy hand at her; already working her rifle into position. "On it!"

How in the world, Piper wonders with no small amount of frustration, can she be so calm and collected in a situation like this, and still practically be _crawling from her own skin_ when it comes to the sensitive stuff?

She sees the recoil more than she hears the shots, but the explosions when the two bullets – unsurprisingly – find their respective marks are enough to deafen her for a long moment. Thankfully, hanging around Blue means that she can read lips pretty well at this point; not to mention expressions.

Widening eyes. Panic. Blue grabbing for her pistol because there's no time to reload. "Behi-"

Piper twists before she can see the rest, and barely manages to catch on her shoulder the blow that was meant for her head. Instinct and experience sends her ducking while her leg snaps out, and she grunts when the gunner trips right on top of her.

Well, _that_ wasn't part of the plan.

"The hell did you come from?!" she demands with a solid clout of her pistol across his face, and manages to buck enough to roll herself on top. His hand is restraining her pistol while her free hand is restraining his knife, and had she been alone, Piper would have been worried. Instead, all she does is turn her head and close her eyes and mouth tightly.

_Pow!_

"Blech." Piper lets the now limp hands drop to the floor, and wipes the spatter from her face with a grunt of disgust. "Gross, Blue. What is it with you and headshots, anyway?"

"I didn't have a lot of options," is the calm reply, which runs at a distinct counterpoint to how Blue's hands are shaking so hard that she can barely holster the pistol. "Anything else would have hit you, too."

True. "You okay?" she prods - softly, since both the room they're in and the one beyond is now silent - and chances at glance around the edge of the door.

"Yeah." Blue nods, but her attention is otherwise completely centered on the rifle in her hands, which is being meticulously inspected and reloaded. "Yeah. I'm fine."

She does this sometimes, Piper has learned by now; just _focuses_ very intensely on something that's familiar and involved, especially when she's frightened. It calms her, clearly, so as long as it keeps happening _after_ the immediate danger has passed, Piper has no plans of letting it become anything other than a small quirk in a woman who certainly has a right to her fair share of them. Besides, the only times where that little trick _doesn't_ immediately work is when Piper herself has somehow been at risk, and that's... kind of flattering. Heartbreaking, she decides as she slips close enough to see the way those hands still tremble, but flattering.

"Hey." She drops to one knee in front of Blue and watches her head jerk up in surprise, then cups the back of her neck with one hand and gently presses their foreheads together because she knows by now that eye contact keeps her from retreating into herself further. "Right here, Blue." For the Nth time, she makes a mental note to try to find out just _what the hell_ _this is,_ and yet knows that it'll probably slip her mind when the next disaster comes around, just like every other time. "I'm right here."

It's a remarkably intimate moment. Blue's hands abandon the rifle and instead clasp Piper's arms; fingers twitching and searching over every seam and small tear. Those eyes are boring into her own; deep and intense and shaking somewhere very far down, and Piper holds that gaze and consciously forces herself to calm down; steadies her breathing but keeps it audible, and slowly but surely, Blue's starts to match.

She can practically taste Blue's breath on her own tongue, and yet the absolute last thing on Piper's mind right now is how very easy it would be to kiss her.

"It's okay," she whispers, and lets her fingers rub gentle circles over the back of Blue's head when the frighteningly tense shoulders finally slump. "We're okay. Everything is fine."

"Ungh." Blue groans and closes her eyes. "You're full of shit."

That pulls a surprised, little chuckle from Piper's throat. "I prefer 'creative license'," she quips, and withdraws her hand before straightening. Blue is sighing and running both hands through her own hair, and everything seems to be back to normal.

Whatever the hell that is.

"You okay?" she tries again, and feels her lips quirk at the low snort.

"Yeah, I think so." Blue takes a breath and rolls her shoulders; re-securing the rifle on her back before glancing up. "Sorry."

"Don't." Piper pokes her in the forehead with a single finger, and smiles when those eyes first roll up, and then cross to watch the motion. "Just another thing. Okay?"

"Okay." There's a smooth, sinuous shift of light and shadow as Blue rocks back and onto her feet, and then Piper is clasping the offered hand and being pulled up herself. "Onwards and upwards?"

"Onwards and upwards," she agrees easily, because there really isn't a place that Blue could lead her to where Piper wouldn't follow. Even the rolling of her stomach as they shoot and dodge their way up the levels doesn't detract from that, though there's a very base form of fear building in her chest that only grows stronger the closer they get, and by the time they're crouching behind dusty boxes in a dark hallway, that fear is about a hair's width from outright choking her.

Piper can _see_ the courser from here. And the creepiest thing about it, she decides with a little shiver, is how perfectly _human_ it looks.

How on earth are they going to take this thing down? She rolls the problem around her head and chews on her lip, and then glances over at her companion. And feels her heart all but stop in her chest because _oh_ , she knows that look and it never means anything good.

"Blue?" she whispers, very softly. "Whatever you're thinking, don't you dare."

Those entirely too thoughtful eyes cut to hers, and Blue's lips quirk in a half-grin; one hand lifting and three fingers tapping twice at her own chest.

'Trust me'. Oh, for fuck's sake.

Piper is quick but Blue is quicker, so her grab misses by a mile. Instead, she digs her nails into the corner of a wooden crate and tries to _breathe;_ watching as if through someone else's eyes as Blue steps into the light, and right in front of one of the most dangerous killers in the Commonwealth.

"Are you here for the synth?" the courser demands.

"Z2-47, initialize factory reset," Blue responds coolly; her posture frighteningly relaxed and her weapon not even raised. "Authorization code: Zeta, five, three, kilo."

"How-" The courser staggers. "How did y-" It manages a single step back before collapsing in a heap on the floor, and Piper swears that her eyes are about to pop right out of her skull as she scrambles to her feet.

"I am going to _kill you!"_ she hisses when she catches up; grabbing one leather-armored shoulder and yanking the other woman around to face her. "Jesus, Blue! What the hell kind of bullshit risk was that?!"

"It worked," Blue notes reasonably; shrugging one shoulder and glancing back at the inactive courser. "Like a charm, too."

" _Really_ not the point," Piper groans, and pulls the brim of her cap down over her eyes with both hands.

This woman is going to be the death of her.


	9. Moment 009: Rest

The next step after securing the courser chip is finding someone who can help them decode it, because as pretty as it surprisingly is, it doesn't do them much good to have one if they don't know what to do with it. Doctor Amari, at least, is kind enough to point them in the direction of the Railroad.

The Railroad, meanwhile, is apparently almost as reclusive as the Institute, because finding them is such a time-consuming task that they actually decide to camp out; an unusual thing indeed when there's the option of spending the night behind walls and guards in only a few hours of travel. It should be safe enough, at least, with Blue's hearing.

Dinner that night is a simple affair; set in the dirty, but structurally sound remains of an abandoned building in the North End. Piper finds a spot on the top floor that has a single point of entry but the option of a different escape route if push comes to shove, and a little rummaging has her digging out a couple of cinder blocks while Blue returns bearing two pots; one huge and made from cast iron, and the other significantly smaller and lighter.

It's pushing December by now, so Piper is glad of the fire that they light in the iron pot, which has been raised from the wooden floor by setting it on the cinder blocks. It isn't below freezing just yet, but it _is_ damned close, and a hot meal - cooked over the fire in the smaller pot – sure does a lot to warm a girl up. More than this damn sleeping bag does at any rate, she considers a trifle sourly when they retire for the night; forcing down another shiver in spite of still being fully dressed and buried in the bag up to her nose.

"Hey." The low voice makes her look over; across the space to the other side of the fire where she can just make out the familiar features in the flickering light. "You okay? You're grumbling."

"It's cold," Piper rejoins, deadpan, and scowls a little at how Blue is not shivering _at all_. "We can't all be walking hot water bottles."

"A pretty fair trade for being a human popsicle for two centuries," comes the dry answer, and then Piper's heart about relocates to her throat when Blue works open the side of her own bag and lifts the top in obvious invitation. "Come here, then."

It feels weirdly like time has slowed to about half its normal pace. "... what?"

Blue lifts herself onto one elbow. "Piper, you literally just complained about being cold _and_ called me a heat source in the same breath. It's not that much of leap to a logical conclusion," she points out reasonably. "So come here." A quirk of an eyebrow and the pat of single hand against the free space, followed by a crooked smile. "I promise I don't bite."

 _Not even if I ask nicely?_   She chokes that response back, at least, and takes a few seconds to weigh the very tempting idea of being warm against the slightly _too_ tempting idea of being pressed against Blue pretty much from head to toe.

Hell, it isn't as if she's ruled by her baser instincts. Not as long as she's sober, anyway.

"Bring yours," Blue advises softly when she crawls free. "Might as well use it as a blanket."

So they do, and Piper keeps her gaze pointed at the night sky outside the narrow window as they wiggle into place in the little space they have. It _is_ a lot warmer this way; the fire casting a golden glow over her front and Blue's longer frame providing a second, constant source of heat where she's spooned loosely up near Piper's back. The added insulation of the open sleeping bag on top of them doesn't hurt either, and while the arm that's resting over her waist did surprise her a little, that position _would_ be a lot more comfortable for Blue than tucking it away somewhere.

"Hey, Blue?" She talks mostly to distract herself from the subtle hum low in her own body. "Can I ask you a personal question?"

A soft puff of laughter tickles the back of her neck, and there's a slow shift as Blue – near as she can tell – tucks her other arm under her head. "Sure. How much more personal than this can we get?"

Oh, she could probably think of something. "How old are you, all things considered?"

"You mean counting the ice box?" A pause while Piper mms in agreement. "It's 2287 now, right?"

"Right." Her fingers curl a little in fabric she's resting on. "November. Going on 2288."

"236, then," Blue answers. "Twenty-six if you _don't_ count the ice box, which is what I'd prefer. I'll be twenty-seven in about a month or so."

"Yeah?" That makes Piper crane her head around. "When?"

A small smile. "New Year's Eve." It looks like Blue is about to say something else, but whatever it was is interrupted by a yawn, which she manages to hide at least somewhat by pressing her face into her own elbow. "God, sorry. I think it's bedtime, hm?"

"Yeah, probably," Piper chuckles, and settles back down as comfortably as possible. "Goodnight, Blue."

"Mmhm." The familiar voice is already heavy with sleep, so there is _no reason_ to read anything into the lazy tightening of the arm around her waist, or the press of a forehead against the back of her neck. "G'night."

Piper privately resigns herself to a sleepless night, and dozes off not ten minutes later to the steady push and pull of Blue's breathing.


	10. Moment 010: Awakening

For Piper, waking up is normally a slow process; a gradual shift from completely ignoring the input provided by her senses to picking them up one by one until she's both awake and alert. Today, however, the first cognizant breath she takes is filled with a scent so familiar that she practically spits her brain out of her ears in her haste to wake up, because she most assuredly did _not_ fall asleep with her head on an all too comfortable shoulder. Or with an arm wrapped around someone.

Damn it. Very cautiously, she cracks one eye open and rolls it upwards; seeking out the familiar profile in the barely-there light of an early morning.

Sound asleep. Piper takes a breath, and can't quite decide if she's relieved or disappointed. There's a fuzzy little film playing in her head; a phantom press of Blue's hand between her shoulders, darkness, and the soft _click_ of a safety being taken off. It could be either a dream or a half-asleep memory, but she wouldn't be surprised to learn that her friend is a light enough sleeper to have heard something in the distance, deep into the night.

That taken into consideration, it is with extreme care that Piper slowly extracts herself; shivering at the chilly air outside the warmth of their makeshift bed, and wishing idly for a nice, thick sweater as she crouches by the haphazard fireplace and sets about bringing it back to life.

Cuddling up to a bedmate is normal, and she knows that. Her bedroom in Diamond City – though she'll only ever admit to it under duress – counts an old, ragged teddy bear among its occupants; one that starts the night to the right of Piper's pillow, and yet somehow always ends up in her arms by morning. So really, her waking up practically curled around Blue is anything _but_ surprising, and given her friend's overall nature, she probably wouldn't bat an eye if she knew.

Not that Piper is planning on telling her, regardless. If she did, she has a feeling that she'd also end up admitting that this is probably the best night's sleep she's had in ages, and knowing Blue, she'd offer to make it a permanent arrangement because that's just the kind of friend she is.

Piper doesn't want that offer. Mainly because she isn't sure that she'll be able to turn it down.

The fire flares to life in what's probably a lot less time than it feels like, and Piper warms her hands back up by touching them to the side of the pot _now_ because it won't be long before doing that will be a very bad idea. So she listens to the low crackle and roots quietly through their bags; freeing a few things they can combine into an on-the-go type breakfast, and only becoming somewhat distracted when even this low level of noise causes a long, audible inhalation behind her, followed by the shifting of fabric and a soft grunt of the kind she normally makes herself when stretching.

Definitely a light sleeper.

"Morning, Blue," she offers without turning, and is glad that her voice isn't quaking.

"Rrrrmgh," is the response, followed by a yawn that's soft enough to almost be a sigh. "Buh."

In spite of herself, Piper chuckles as she finds the rinsed pot from last sight and sets it over the fire. Blue, she's starting to realize, wakes up in one of two ways; she is either completely alert and ready for anything from the moment her eyes flutter open, or she's the exact opposite; struggling to even see daylight – though, really, there isn't much of it available right now anyway - and having a very obvious, internal argument where she's trying to convince herself to get up in the first place, rather than simply go back to sleep.

This is the clearly the second, and Piper fishes a gumdrop from her pocket and slips it between the long fingers that are just barely resting outside the sleeping bag because hopefully the sugar will help. And her heart, she tells herself firmly, does _not_ give a little flutter when the pads of those fingers brush over the inside of her own; warm from sleep and newly familiar, and so, _so_ gentle in spite of how deadly this woman can be.

 _Jesus._ All Blue is doing is taking the damn gumdrop.

"Morning." The burred, delayed response thankfully pulls her from her thoughts, and the piece of candy is held up between two fingers before being slipped into Blue's mouth. "Fanksh."

"Sure." She focuses back on the pot; slipping what she's dug out into it and finding the spatula they used last night to move it around. Behind her, there's the subtle sound of a shifting body, and she chances a curious glance over one shoulder to see that Blue is resting on her side now. Facing her, with her head pillowed on one curled arm and her eyes halfway open and warm as she watches her in the half-light; like she's just happy that Piper is there.

 _God_ , those eyes. Dimly, she remembers the fist time she saw them, on that day where she was so close to breaking down in hysterics and Blue just showed up and became the perfect aid; puzzled though she clearly was by the whole thing _(What? Who are you?)_. She remembers thinking how unusually clear and bright their color was, how deep in them that undeniable spark of intelligence ran; intelligence that she has now learned is better termed brilliance, because Blue, it seems, can teach herself anything just by reading a book.

Piper has seen every look those eyes can have. She has seen them dim with pain or sorrow, sharpen with anger or interest, soften with sympathy or kindness, and narrow with confusion or calculation. Mostly, she's seen them turned her way; a little dark with uncertainty, back in the earliest days, but steadily warming with genuine affection until this look – this _moment_ – that makes her head feel hot and her body flash warm all over; the flippant words she was finding sticking tightly in her throat and forcing her to turn away to just be able to _think_.

Beautiful. Dangerous. _Tempting_ , to the point where every cell in her body _itches_ to crawl back into that old, worn sleeping bag; to sink into the peace of that somnolent embrace and _never leave._

Which means, she decides with a slight frown out of the broken window and towards the brightening horizon, that she's in trouble. More so than she originally thought.

Blue, she guesses by the new shuffle of fabric behind her, is getting up, and Piper's heart is pounding against the inside of her ribs while she tries to remember how to breathe.

_Shit._


	11. Moment 011: Wrong

She hates the Glowing Sea. Hates the sickly, green tinge to the air and the constant, murring rush of a wind that _isn't there_ because it makes her teeth ache and her head tighten. Everything here is _wrong,_ from how it smells to how it sounds to how it looks and _feels_ , and the air itself is thick and dead on her tongue when she breathes; still, but crackling, like a ghost that hasn't yet appeared.

It might, she allows as they continue their trek across the decaying land, be easier to take if she would actually use all the equipment she has available. Like the power armor that Piper had been so pissed to see, that first time.

" _You have your own, personal bullet-proof body sitting right here, and you run around in that jumpsuit and some cobbled-together armor? Are you friggin' kidding me, Blue?!"_

Piper's eyes can change in a heartbeat; from warm, quiet comfort to sparking, steely anger. But she gets it, or at least she thinks she does. Piper is only ever angry with her when she worries, and with how dangerous the Commonwealth is, there's certainly plenty of cause to do that. And she doesn't _want_ to make her worry; wishes – in fact – that she could just _explain_ and maybe make that anger go away because seeing it makes her stomach hurt. The words to do so, however, elude her as they've always done.

She tries. _Keeps_ trying, a little at a time when she has the chance and Sanctuary is still and dark and quiet and there's no one to see. But the armor is dark and tight and she can't _move_ – can't _breathe_ – for how it presses on her chest as if it's trying to cave it in. When she _had to_ – that one time in the ruins of Concord – it was easier, because nothing makes her think less about clicking and whirring and how _the colors are all wrong_ than a band of raiders out for blood.

" _Really held your own there, Blue._ "

A different time, that. Different tone and inflection – warmer, she thinks; proud, not angry – but the same voice. The same smile. The same name.

Blue.

It fits. Better than her old one does, certainly; a new name for a new world instead of old for old. It settles, somehow, in her chest. Comfortably, with no memories attached other than the ones she's earned after leaving the vault. Clean. Fresh. She tries, sometimes, to sound her old name out in her head, but she can't do that without hearing it in Nate's voice.

" _Hey." His voice; grabbing her attention away from the elevator shaft that is so long and dark and loud and filled with frightened faces and oh, God, that was actually a bomb. "Right here." A hand that she knows; gently taking her wrist and placing her palm over Shaun's belly where she can feel his breathing; warm and alive and hitching a little because he's as scared and confused as everyone else. "We're both right here." The hand releases her wrist and instead cups the back of her head, and she can feel his forehead against her own; a familiar pressure as his eyes catch hers and holds them. Grounds her. "Everything is going to be fine. Stay with me, okay?"_

Piper always reminded her a lot of Nate. She misses him, still, and hates that fact that not seeing his face is getting _easier_ because he was there for _so long_ ; noticing – perhaps more than anyone else because that was how he was – the ways in which she is... a little different, sometimes. Most of the time, maybe, but she learned to hide it long ago; to read the rhythm and sequence in how other people work, and adjust accordingly.

Nate didn't care. He just tried to understand as much as he could when even she couldn't explain, and was just _there._ Sturdy, safe and comfortable, and she loved him. _Loves_ him, still, even if his face is fading.

"Well, we survived," Nick says when the air clears and stops tasting of poison. He startles her a little, actually, because he doesn't say much overall and talking – out here in the wasteland – is still something that belongs to Piper. "Where to now, friend?"

"Sanctuary," she says. Not 'home'; not yet. Maybe never. It doesn't _fit;_ not the way it used to. "I'll-" The pause is small, but necessary to find the right phrasing because she doesn't want to hurt; even if it's Nick, who doesn't seem to much care about things like that. "I'll see you later, Nick."

"You sure?" He stuffs his metal hand in one pocket, and eyes her. "No denying that you can take care of yourself, but that's a long way on your own."

A day at least, if she hurries; more like two. But she nods because he isn't _comfortable_ , not yet, and she needs to be alone to get her head together. "I'm sure. Tell-" Another pause; this time because she still doesn't _understand_. "Say hi to Piper for me?"

He promises that he will, and then she's alone. With her thoughts, and the silence that isn't quite that. It isn't comfortable, yet; the creak of dead branches and the occasional, far-off sound of gunfire. Every little sound jumps at her; pulling her attention in a different direction a dozen times in a single second, but that _is,_ at least, a definite improvement from a _hundred_ times per second.

She's adjusting. She's learning this world like she did the old one from before the bombs; getting to know its unfamiliar sounds and smells and sights. One day at a time, because it does – it _will_ – get easier. She knows that from experience, and so tries to ignore the groans and shuffles and whooshes that sound so wrong to her ears; to just _let_ the sunlight be a little paler, and the sky a little too blue.

Piper's company would be welcome. Her voice, her stories and the way she wanders off a little sometimes have proven to be great ways in which to center her attention. Familiar, by now. Safe. Comfortable.

But Piper isn't here.

" _Sorry, Blue; I gotta run this paper, y'know? It's kinda the only thing keeping the lights on." And that's reasonable and can't be anything other than true, but something in her eyes is still... wrong. "Hey; take Nick with you, maybe? I think he's bored. I swear, the other day his joints squeaked; could probably use a little running around to limber him up."_

She walks, at first. Sitting would probably be better; her body needs the rest after the stress of how _wrong_ the Glowing Sea is, but walking is a close enough approximation and she does need to keep moving. According to Brian Virgil's notes – she takes them out now; studying them again even though she knew them by heart after reading them once – building this... signal interceptor (also wrong; sounds like it has a syllable too little or too much) is going to be a monumental task, so the sooner she gets back to Sanctuary and can have Sturges look at this, the better.

The raiders don't even come close to getting the drop on her; she hears them leagues away, which at least means that in some ways, her hyper-charged senses are a blessing. Killing also isn't comfortable – she hopes it never will be – but it's a necessity most of the time, and does, in a sickening sort of way, narrow her focus for as long as the fight goes on. Centers her.

There's three of them; grizzled and thin and now dead on the ground, and she takes what she can but otherwise leaves them behind after tending to her own injuries – minor, at least – and picking up three pebbles. She's never asked Piper to carry those; doesn't think she's even noticed.

302 now, total; most of them back in Sanctuary. One for every human life only because she can't keep count of the animal ones, which is saying something.

Now, she runs; jogs, at any rate, because the fight – in another backhanded sort of blessing – shook the rest of the stress from her system. In, two, three, four; out, two, three, four. Steady and simple and _comfortable_ , with a flicker of Nate's grin in her mind and the sound of two sets of feet instead of one. Rhythm.

" _How did I ever travel without you, Blue?"_

She sighs, and pops another dose of Rad-X because she recognizes the far-off, weirdly metallic rumble of a radiation storm and can't be sure that those aren't stronger this close to the crater. "How the hell am I going to travel without _you,_ Piper?"

But she has to, and worse than that, she has to do it with this sick, icy sort of feeling low in her gut that she did something _wrong._

She just wishes that she could figure out what it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So because I'm curious and trying to have different styles of 'speaking' depending on which character is telling the story: How long did it take you people to figure out the POV switch?
> 
> Also, a small, advance warning; once Easter is over - which is very soon - I'll have to spend a lot more time adulting. Which means, sadly, that the updates will probably come quite a bit slower.


	12. Moment 012: Breathing Room

"See ya later, sis!"

"Be good!" Piper calls back down the stairs, because hey, she has to be the boring big sister _sometimes_. "Don't forget your -!" _SLAM!_ "- lunch." Well, at least Nat's talking to her now. Next step: convincing her that slamming the door when the walls are rusty, corrugated metal is a _bad idea_. She'll check to see if her lunch is still there when she goes downstairs for a refill.

In all honesty, these have been two of the most productive weeks she can ever remember having. She has so many stories to tell that she's actually _ahead_ for once; another fortnight's worth of issues ready for copying and more than that still wanting to pour forth in spite of her cramping hand. There really isn't much to do around the house except write, take care of Nat and try to keep the place looking decent, and since Nat didn't talk to her for the first ten days she was home, writing took up a good amount of her time.

She's pretty sure that Nat is actually still mad at her, but just tired of the silence. And she gets that. Hell, she kind of understands _why_ she's mad, even if it feels like her little sis is blowing the whole thing way out of proportion.

She is _not_ abandoning Blue. God, even the thought of never seeing her again hurts, so why the hell would she do a boneheaded thing like that? She's just taking some... personal time or whatever, to get her head – or rather her heart – on straight, not to mention make sure that her and her sister keep having a roof over their heads. Even if it leaks sometimes.

It takes time to pay off a loan of 1500 caps from the city, and McDonough certainly isn't going to give her a break on the payments. So it's good to have some time where she can just be productive and try to secure as much of a living as she can; to make sure that she has another good while of payments ready so they at least don't get chucked out of the city for _that_. The fact that all her new stories so far _don't_ accuse the mayor of being a synth won't hurt, either. Not that she's done with him; not by a long shot. It's more of a temporary, strategic retreat. For Nat's sake, more than anything else.

So really, it's good to be back in Diamond City for a while. But yeah, it's also starting to be kind of boring, because it is incredibly easy to get used to wandering around and getting into trouble, sometimes multiple times in a single day. Especially with Blue, who for all her occasional stutter in adjusting to this world is still the best traveling partner that Piper's ever had.

And boy, is it quiet without her. More so than last time, which is probably because Piper knows her better, now. In spite of how quiet Blue usually is – of how roughly seven times out of ten she doesn't even speak unless spoken to – her presence comes with a certain amount of background noise that Piper's head has learned to mean that everything is fine, and the lack of it is making her eyeballs itch. There's no patter of footsteps, no turning of pages, no creaking of some random thing being pulled apart because how does _this_ work, and her brain keeps telling her that because of that, _something is wrong_.

It's getting easier, at least; both to not have those sounds, and to think of Blue without something in her chest reacting. Imagining her face – her eyes – still causes a jolt, but Piper guesses that she's just going to have to get used to that one.

Okay; her hand is hurting enough right now that she needs a break from writing, so she blows out a breath and rises with a creak of her chair; ambling down the steps and barely hearing the sounds of a Diamond City morning from outside. Nat did remember her lunch, she determines with a glance around their little kitchen area, and is glad of that. She'd have taken it up to the school if she had to, of course, but she does try to stay inside these days; both because of the amount of writing she still needs to do, and because it feels like every single person she meets wants to know where Blue is.

Sanctuary, probably; at least according to the latest gossip from the incoming caravans. Blue gets noticed that way, she remembers as she goes about making another pot of coffee; most different people do, and Blue certainly is that, but only in the best of ways.

And yeah, she misses her, still. Always, really, she thinks as she leans back against the low cabinet that serves as a counter. But it's better this way; to give herself a little time to just... figure this out. Frankly, the fact that she can know so clearly that her attention isn't wanted and _still_ fall this hard scares her, so she needs to... not _bury_ it because that obviously didn't work, but at least find a way to _deal_ with it; a way to be _around_ Blue without this breathless sort of ache in her chest because that is distracting, and being distracted is a very dangerous thing when wandering around outside a protected settlement.

Blue watches Piper's back but Piper also watches Blue's, and there is _no way in hell_ that she is risking either of them just because she had to be dumb enough to go and fall in love when she so obviously really, really shouldn't have.

So. One day at a time, she decides with a sigh; pouring a fresh bout of coffee and sticking her nose in the mug as she plods back up the stairs. Blue obviously wasn't _happy_ that she chose to stay in Diamond City for a while, but she accepted it without a single word of objection.

Which... ow. But the fact that Blue doesn't need _her?_ That's something she has to remember. Even – _especially_ \- if it stings.


	13. Moment 013: Improvement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Jess:** Yes she is, and you win ten internets for catching on so quickly. ^^

"Alright; steady now," Sturges says; strained because the wall is heavy and unwieldy and _don't drop it,_ and she can feel the pull in her shoulders as they lift it upright, stretching and tightening and making it feel like the jumpsuit doesn't _fit;_ not now. "Easy! Grab hold of that- right, yeah." More hands, on the other side - Preston and Sheffield – pulling and helping and steadying, alone, because Jun and Marcy are working the crops in the privacy of their grief and Mama Murphy is too old but don't tell _her_ that.

 _Thunk_ , and it's upright; that much lighter because there's some balance, and she's sweating even in the cold December air and itching everywhere. It's easier, at least, than the first one was; this one has others it can be secured to.

"Codsworth?" A glance over her shoulder, to where he hovers further back because his servo arms just aren't strong enough. "Here?"

"Almost, mum!" He bobs a little in the air, and some part of her wonders how he does that; how everything is connected and wired and makes him _just work,_ even now. "Approximately 2.71 inches to your left, if at all possible."

"'Approximately'?" Sturges looks over at her, and she grins a little because she's starting to learn his expressions and it seems like the right response. "Handy little clicker, ain't he?"

"I _am_ a Mr. Handy, sir," Codsworth points out; like he'd be turning up his nose if he had one. "One of General Atomic's finest, if you don't mind."

"Sure, sure." Pull for Sturges and _push_ for her, and the grating of metal over the already placed, wooden floor that makes her ears twitch. "No offense intended, pal. Better here?"

"Quite," Codsworth agrees; friendlier now, appeased. "Should keep out 99.62 percent of the wind, there. Well..." His eyes bob and twist and flicker. "Holes not withstanding."

"Rowf." That from Dogmeat, who sits next to him; tail swishing slowly and head cocked.

"Everybody's a critic," Sturges grumbles. "Alright!" He taps the wall with one fist. "We hold her up and you set her down!"

Pounding, then, from the other side; long nails into old wood, which in turn is spiked into the rock-solid foundation of a home that no longer is, but maybe will be again. It's _loud;_ bouncing off the metal sheet and making her ears ring, and she presses the closer one into her shoulder because that helps, a little. They help her and she helps them; tit for tat, one hand washes the other, a way to get in for a place to call home. Slowly, but surely. Forward.

"Bottom's secure." Preston's voice, now. "Shef, you grab that side, I'll do this one."

Softer pounding this time, maybe because it's hammering into the wood frames in the other walls instead of into the floor, but there's less pressure on her shoulder and she can stretch her legs now; help hold up the new wall with one hand instead of the weight and strength of her entire body. Long projects – weeks – of clearing a ruin and building a base, and now putting a house together in the day and working on the signal interceptor at night.

She never did this before; helped build. Physically. Just supplied the materials and then _left_ the other places, and she frowns at where the new structure isn't quite flush with the edge of the foundation – Sturges says that doesn't matter and she has to trust that he knows – because that feels selfish, now. These people – the ones _here_ \- don't seem to mind that she left them; that she gave the first many things to others, because others had sometimes nothing, and these at least had the ruins for shelter.

"Helluva thing, ain't it?" Sturges asks, and she cants her head at him because she isn't quite sure what he means. "This!" He laughs and pats the wall; then spreads his arm out to indicate the others they've already put up. "A whole new house outlined and ready to be used. All we gotta do is put the roof on."

'All'. She peers up and frowns, and thinks that maybe he's making it sound easier than it will be. "How hard would it be?" she asks. "To build upwards?"

"What, like two floors?" He scratches his head with the hand that isn't holding and looks up; frowns, like she did. "Well, no harder'n what we've already done, I guess. Why?"

Because even if it almost fills the foundation it's too small for seven people; for sleeping and eating and living all in one and she _wants_ to fit here, but she thinks that maybe space is a luxury and won't convince, so she needs more. "Easier to defend from higher up," she tries; remembers that much, from watchers posted high and the easy way in which she's seen so far herself, on the top of crumbling buildings.

"Good point," Sturges grunts. "Push comes to shove, we can shoot from there; maybe section off a corner for storage if we have to lock ourselves in for few days." He smiles at her, and she returns it and hopes that it looks more natural than it feels because it _isn't;_ not natural, not easy, not like it was with Piper, but she tries because she has to start over. "Hell, look at you! Goin' all strategic and planning for the future on me when I'm just thinking basics. Nice!"

She learns a lot from Sturges; learns to build and smith and fix and solder, to take care of the blisters her hands get because she uses _books_ and not tools and while her feet know how to run, her hands didn't know how much wear a hammer is until now. But she learns, maybe even grows; stays warm in the cold through hard work and learns how to repair and even _create_ , sort of; learns the more special things to look for when they're out of material and she takes Preston or Codsworth or Dogmeat into nearby Concord for a day or two to scrounge for more.

Mostly, she wishes that they'd all stop... _touching_ her. She knows it's friendly; Preston's firm clasp of the shoulder, Sturges' hearty smack on the back and Mama Murphy's gentle pat on the hand, so she doesn't say anything and waits to just get used to it even if it makes her guts itch.

It's safe, certainly; she knows that when they fight off the first gang of raiders, even if she and Sturges then take a break from working on the interceptor to focus on defenses. But she isn't _comfortable_ here; not the way she was out there, in all that lack of safety, alone with Piper.

But maybe she can be, some day. At least she's getting closer to finding Shaun.


	14. Moment 014: Reunion

Piper sees the new addition to Sanctuary's skyline before she even finishes cresting the hill to the old truck stop, and it's enough of a 'wow' type moment that she actually stops and just... _stares_ at it for a little while.

Holy _crap_ that's huge. Metal, clearly, going by how it's gleaming in the pale moonlight of a winter evening, and glistening a little with ice at the top where there's no shelter from the freezing wind. She's seen a lot of things in her life at this point, and she can honestly say that she doesn't have a single clue what in the hell _that's_ supposed to be. Sure catches your eye, though, which makes her shake herself free of gawking and continue along the cracked road; a little faster than before because that is _definitely_ going to draw some attention, and she doubts that most of it is going to be friendly.

And she's worried now, as well as a little anxious, because while the last caravan she came across did have news of Sanctuary being a safe place to go, those news are three days old by now and a lot can happen in that amount of time. The gate, however, is still there when she reaches the bridge; locked tight and manned both by a face she recognizes and one she doesn't, with turrets patiently chugging away on either side and lights pinning her brightly enough to almost blind her.

"Hey, Preston," she calls up as she approaches. "I'm seeing a lot of new things already, and I'm not even inside yet!"

"Lots of changes," he agrees with a smile, and unlike last time doesn't leave his post to unlock the gate; it just _clicks_ , and then swings open. "Most of them good. Come on in, Piper."

She does, and when the gate swings shut and locks behind her, _then_ he comes down and shakes her hand. "What are the bad changes?"

"Well, there's really only one," he admits with a faint tug at the corner of his mouth. "The attention we're getting."

Piper very deliberately tracks her gaze to the ginormous, metal spike, and then back to him. "Can't imagine why," she drawls, and chuckles when he does. "What the hell _is_ that?"

Preston shakes his head, and holds up one hand. "I'm not even gonna try to explain," he responds wryly. "I train and protect; that's my area. When it comes to building stuff and what it can do, you want to talk to either Sturges or the general, whose pet project that thing is, anyway."

"Fair enough." She gives a little jerk of her head; down the road and towards the center of the settlement. "She in?"

"Hasn't left to my knowledge." Preston is already climbing the steps back up the tower; clearly not intending to leave his watch. "I'd start looking for her around our main attraction."

So she heads that way, and takes in all the differences as she climbs the slow incline to the center of Sanctuary; the lack of the debris she saw last time, the lack of collapsed houses – in some cases even the lack of ones that were technically livable – and how those have been replaced by new construction; shacks like the ones back in the city, but _larger_ , with light trickling out from the occasional, small hole or open door.

Another thing she notices is the _life_ around her now; the low buzz of conversations stirring the cold air and the smell of food nipping at her nose and reminding her that she hasn't eaten in hours. Sanctuary is completely walled in, now; man-made defenses added to the natural one of the water that surrounds it, and the towers that stood by the old, yellow house the last time she was here have been taken down; new ones instead dotting their way evenly around the perimeter, all manned.

She does wonder a little at what appears to be analog clocks painted on the broken tarmac a handful of bodylengths apart; all neatly aligned, not with the road, but with each other, with 12 – she guesses – pointing roughly north and so on. Some of the walls have numbers on the inside to match, she determines; white paint that stands out even in the darkness. But that curiosity trickles from her mind when she reaches the... _whatsit_ , and recognizes a set of grungy overalls; lit from the back by a lamp that could rival the brightness of the ones lighting Diamond City.

Or at least, she recognizes them up to mid-back, since the rest of them – and their owner's body – is buried inside another huge chunk of metal; this one a lot thicker and lower to the ground, with a massive fan on one end.

"Sturges?" she calls, and there's a jerk and a _clonk_ and a muffled sort of curse before his head pops out; scowling at first, but his face quickly morphing into a grin when he sees her.

"Well, if it ain't the big city reporter, come all the way up to the ass end of the Commonwealth." He's smiling, though; reaching out a friendly hand, glancing down at it, and apparently only then realizing that it's literally _black_ with all sorts of gunk. He coughs a little and quickly pulls a stained rag from his back pocket; wiping his hands before offering his right one again. "Sorry about that. Ain't a thing on this earth with clean guts, unfortunately. I've seen the insides of enough of them to know that."

"You and me both," Piper concedes wryly as she shakes his hand, and she is curious like she has never before been in her life, but there are still priorities. "Preston told me I could find Bl- the general here?"

"About ten minutes ago, you woulda," he agrees. "Wandered off for the hub a little while back; wanted to look something up. Head on up that way, and I'm sure you'll pick her out."

"The hub?"

He points – jabs a thumb over his shoulder, really – and Piper looks and very quickly has another one of those 'wow' moments because she didn't even _see_ this; a massive structure on _three floors_ , but with not a speck of light at the very top, which is admittedly also smaller than the two floors below. The lack of light, she guesses a little woozily, is probably to account for the night vision of the two guards she can barely see up there; facing opposite directions.

"That top outlook was a pain in my butt to put up," Sturges grunts; his voice a little hollow-sounding because he's burrowed back into the machine. "Worth every ache, though; damn fine line of sight from up there. Even turned back a pack of super-mutants just the other week, so the general clearly knows what she's talking about."

Blue's idea, then, and Piper's grin just about takes over her whole face as she stands there; so _proud_ in that one, endless second that it's almost unbearable.

 _Go you, Blue_. She starts off again at that thought because this deserves the _mother_ of all hugs, even if she hadn't dearly wanted one of those already.

"Miss Piper?" Sturges' voice makes her pause and turn, and he's leaning on the fanned chunk right now; a little furrow between his eyebrows and a greasy wrench in his free hand. "Go easy on her, alright? I don't think she thought you was comin' back."

Piper frowns at that theory as she walks away; now barely seeing anything other than the inside of her own mind as she thinks. That can't be right, can it? Blue didn't even object when they parted ways back in Diamond City, so she _had_ to have known that it was only temporary; would have _said something_ otherwise. Right?

Reaching the hub distracts her to the point where she just _stops_ in mid-step two paces beyond the door, because if she thought Sanctuary in general was alive, this space is practically _vibrating_. There are literally people _everywhere;_ on the couches just inside the door, at the long stretch of cabinets and tables along the wall to her left and everywhere in between. People of all ages and sizes and shapes; children and adults working and talking and playing in the light and the _warmth_ in here; provided by bodies and a couple of refurbished fireplaces and kept inside by the rugs on the floor and the flags on the walls, with the familiar sound of Diamond City Radio playing cheerfully in the background.

_If you cannot find the way  
_ _Just listen for my song  
_ _I'll love you all your life  
_ _Although that may not be too long_

Across the large room by the stairs to the next floor, there is a collection of shelves and racks holding more books and magazines than Piper thinks she's ever seen in her life. Unsurprisingly, _that_ is where Blue is; sitting at a table with her back to the door and an open book just barely visible by her hand. Her attention is obviously captured by a little girl who she speaks to in a voice too low for Piper to hear; the long fingers of one hand combing gently through the child's hair in exchange for a bright grin.

For once, Blue isn't in her jumpsuit and armor. Instead, she's wearing a pair of faded jeans and a pale, flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows - work clothes, clearly, going by the old grease stains – and while her hands are clean, Piper can see the black smears on her forearms and – when Blue turns her head a little more – a single, grimy swipe behind her ear that makes her smile.

"Heck of a thing you've built here, Blue," she murmurs; soft enough that no one even glances her way.

Other, of course, than Blue herself, who somehow hears _her_ voice even under all the others. And there's another one of those _moments_ when she snaps around and their eyes meet; a single second and a thousand years all in one look, and yeah, Piper's chest lurches all over again, but she can't make it stop so she might as well enjoy it.

She has exactly three heartbeats to notice these changes, too; Blue's hair is a little longer, her shoulders a little wider, and her face a little softer in the way that faces get when people have access to three square meals a day and _don't_ constantly run from one end of the Commonwealth to the other. Then there's the _ker-thud_ of a chair hitting the floor, the startled yelp of one of the men on the couch because Blue _literally hurdles right over him_ , and then she's across the room and Piper is being _picked up_ and _hugged_ like Blue thought she'd never see her again, and oh, God, Sturges was right, wasn't he?

"Oh, Blue..." She doesn't even care about the sudden silence or the startled stares; just hugs her best friend back and feels her heart ache at the soft, helpless little sound pressing into her temple, even if her feet are barely touching the floor. "You big, silly, walking pile of absolute, goofball trouble," she accuses softly, tenderly; her voice trembling even as her hand cups the back of Blue's head and her lips just barely brush her ear. "How can you not know that I will _always_ come back to you?"

Blue just hugs her tighter and Piper returns it; pressing her face into soft hair and warm skin and letting herself be rocked so, so gently while that powerful heartbeat pounds against her chest.

Home.

_When you hear me call out  
_ _Baby, kick the wall out  
_ _And crawl out through the fallout back to me_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does it show that Sturges is one of my favorite tertiaries? And yup, _Crawl out Through the Fallout_ is my favorite song from the game.
> 
> This is where the updates start slowing down by a lot, since I go back to work tomorrow. Thanks in advance for your patience.


	15. Moment 015: Communication

By the time she's been in Sanctuary for about six hours, Blue has barely let her out of reach; let alone out of sight. It's not intrusive; Blue is just always kind of... there. At the very least in her peripheral vision; not that Piper would _want_ her any further away. Closer would actually be preferable, so she doesn't even pretend to want to argue when bedtime rolls around and Blue sort of... catches her fingers, on her own, and gives her this _look_ that's pleading and uncertain all at once, as if she knows _what_ to ask, but not _how_.

Piper agrees anyway, and _wow_ , what a difference it makes to have that secure hold around her and know that Blue not only realizes she's that close, but _wants_ her there. Much easier, with that certainty nestled at the back of her mind, to relax into the warmth of a shared bed and listen to the steady thumping of the heartbeat under her ear.

Which one of them, she wonders, needed this more?

Sanctuary, meanwhile, stills for the night. The chatter of a crowd becomes the peace of twosomeness, because Blue – apparently – sleeps on the ground floor of the hub as the only person; in a little nook tucked behind the stairs and walled off from the room at large. Private, which Piper figures is a good thing because she, at least, would be a lot less comfortable with the two of them curling up together like this if they were sharing sleeping space with a half-dozen people.

"Hey, Blue?" Her voice is low in the stillness, but the fingers on her back are flexing faintly – testing, almost – so Piper guesses that she's probably still awake. "Did you really think I wasn't coming back?"

The fingers still, and she swears that the heartbeat she can hear picks up a little. "Yeah. I did."

Oh, God. "Why?" She lifts herself up; the mattress dipping under her elbow and Blue's face coming into view in the half-light spilling in from the central room. Her voice is soft because she isn't _angry_ , of course, just...

Why would she even _think_ that?

"You talk a lot with your eyes," is the unexpected answer; along with the slightest of upwards tugs at the corner of Blue's mouth. "Did you know that?"

"I- what?" Piper is _trying_ to follow the mental track from her own question to that one, but it's a bumpy ride, to say the least.

"Here." A single fingertip, and a trace of it below her lower lashes so light that she barely even feels it. "These." Well, yeah; she managed to follow her _that_ far, at least. "Sometimes they're louder than your voice. Most of the time they agree with how you sound, but they didn't then. Something was..." Blue's face twitches a little. "... off."

"When we parted ways back in the city?"

"Mmhm." The backs of Blue's fingers are brushing over her cheek almost curiously - her eyes dropping to watch the motion - and Piper is mostly trying to not move _at all_ because this is new and a little frightening, but she definitely doesn't want it to _stop_. "I mean, I heard what you said, but you looked like-" A pause and a soft breath, with those eyes now turning inwards; searching. "Like you wanted to say goodbye but not outright, so you'd decided to... fade, I guess. From my life." Her shoulders move in a faint shrug. "I just figured I'd done something wrong."

" _Why?"_ More intensely, now – more emotion – but no less soft.

Blue smiles in a way that doesn't reach her eyes at all. "Wouldn't be the first time," she returns, and there is not even the tiniest bit of inflection in her voice or her eyes; not wryness, not sadness, not _anything_. Not even resignation. Just simple, matter-of-fact acceptance.

That's probably what hurts the most.

"Blue." Piper cups her cheek now – gently – and bends her neck so she can better catch that gaze and hold it. "Listen to me, okay? If you ever, _ever_ think that I'm doing that, _ask me_. Better yet, _argue with me_."

"I don't want you to have to do something you don't like," is the low reply. "Not for my sake."

"And I get that," Piper sighs. "And that's- it's sweet of you, but you? Nat? You two are the single most important reasons I have for doing _anything_." A small smile. "Whether I want to do something or not has very little bearing on it; if I need to, for you or her? I will." She settles back a little, then; rests her head in her own hand because the proximity and the intensity between them right now is going to make her do something very, very stupid if she's not careful. Her hand stays on Blue's cheek, though; thumb gently tracing the skin. "So ask. _Argue_ , if you feel like you have to. _Please_." Those eyes are watching her very seriously, and she doesn't break away. " _Show me_ that it matters to you if I'm there or not. Because for most of the time we were apart, I didn't think it did."

Her last words makes Blue draw in a breath through her nose so hard that her nostrils flare visibly, and they're close enough that Piper can _feel_ the jolt of sudden tension run from her shoulders all the way down to her toes.

" _How-_ " Blue grinds out from behind clenched teeth, with the hand on Piper's back fisting tightly in her clothing. "- can you not know that?"

Piper looks down at the mattress and lets a soft breath of wry laughter escape, and then looks back up with a crooked smile. "I seem to remember asking you something very similar just a couple of hours ago."

For a few moments, those eyes just squint at her; considering. Then they close while Blue's entire body loosens and slumps into the mattress, and her free hand – the left one; for once unencumbered by the weight of the Pip-Boy, which is sitting on a small end table next to the bed – comes up to rub at her forehead. "Grmph." A soft grunt, and a slow breath. "You did, didn't you?"

"Mmhm." Piper catches the hand with her own; moving both down to rest on the blanket over Blue's stomach, and feels her heart skip a beat or two – or five - when their fingers twine. "I think maybe we've gotten a little too used to reading each other," she offers softly. "To the point where we don't _talk_ to each other enough." She quirks an eyebrow. "I suggest that we both try to remember the fact that we can't read each other's minds. Yet, anyway."

Blue snorts and pulls her down into a hug that's just as tight as the one from earlier, and Piper just _sinks into it_ and feels a lot like she's an old, dried-up, pre-war sponge suddenly tossed into a warm, steaming bath.

Which, some part of her muses, is kinda funny considering which one of them is the _actual_ relic.

"What are you doing?" Blue wonders when Piper lifts herself up a little because that thought reminded her of something; one hand stretching out for the Pip-Boy and poking at it until she reaches a screen where the date and time is displayed in the lower, left-hand corner.

_Dec 31, 2287 - 12:17 AM_

And because she's almost obnoxiously happy to be the first one to say it, Piper stretches her neck enough to place a soft kiss to a warm cheek. "Happy birthday, Blue."

There's a soft intake of breath and a startled glance – from Piper's face over to the Pip-Boy and back – and then the warmest, purest smile Piper thinks she's ever seen.

"Yeah," Blue agrees softly. "It really is."


	16. Moment 016: Preparation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo, 20k!

Piper stays in Sanctuary after that. The first days of the year are busy ones, anyway; what with Blue and Sturges still working on the 'whatsit', which she now knows is called a 'signal interceptor'. She's not _happy_ to learn what its function will be, but she helps out anyway; even if only in the tiny ways of 'hold this' or 'hand me that'. Everything else goes so far over her head that it seems like the other two are speaking a different language, but she's learning. Blue's single, driving purpose on this earth is finding her son, and considering how many stories she's outright handed Piper and how great of a friend she is, the very least Piper can do is help with that in whatever way she can; including playing gopher.

She does other things too, of course; helps teach the few children here, pitches in with other construction or repairs – which are thankfully simpler and let her wield the tools herself – and even learns a few tricks from the people who do the gathering, storing, preserving and cooking of the food. Piper can cook, of course, but a little new info and a few new tips go a long way.

Every single night is spent in Blue's bed and Blue's arms; in simple, perfect peace and contentment. It worries her a little just how _addictive_ life here is quickly becoming; both because of how remarkably well she sleeps when sharing such a small bed, and due to the sense of community this place has; something – she reflects quietly one evening – that Diamond City lost long ago to sheer size, if it ever had it in the first place.

Here, there really isn't such a thing as a single responsibility; no one person or group of people who do _this_ while someone else does _that_. Every last person can wield a weapon or a hammer or mind a preparing meal aside from the children, and even they are taught; learning other basic skills such as reading and math as a natural part of their lives. How many nails do we need to put this wall up? How many mutfruits for this amount of meat? Which of these recipes, based on the ingredients we have out, is the right one?

There are no gender roles in Sanctuary, she learns; no only-male guards or only-female cooks. Hardly anyone looks twice if she herself sits down out in the open in the middle of the day and starts cleaning her pistol, and those that do only want to either get tips from her or offer ones of their own; to compare and discuss and basically talk shop. It's an amazing, inspiring melting pot of a thousand little bits of knowledge combining into a massive library through something as simple as sharing, and while Piper isn't sure if that would work on a larger scale, for a settlement the size of Sanctuary, it works like magic.

Some people know more than others on specific subjects, of course. There's no denying the fact that Sturges and Blue are the heavy lifters when it comes to both building and fixing and actual, _literal_ heavy lifting. In the same way, Preston is the most experienced soldier, Sheffield is better at seeing new use in old junk, the Longs have at least ten green thumbs apiece, and Mama Murphy has a whole head full of all sorts of advice and experience.

Piper likes it here, she decides very easily at lunch on the fourth day, even if a large part of her also misses being out there; just the two of them. The additional company – all of these new stories and viewpoints and experiences – mostly make up for it, though.

But of course, peace isn't a constant in the Commonwealth.

"Raiders!" The yell from the outlook on the hub's roof sends an actual _wave_ of movement through the small gathering below the cul-de-sac's large tree; older children grabbing younger ones and taking off for the old root cellar that Blue showed her, while the adults jump to their feet. "Three and eight!"

"Pincer!" Preston translates, and people just _scatter_. There's a hand grabbing Piper's elbow, too, but it's one she knows and so she just follows; into the hub and up two flights of stairs that those slightly longer legs have a definite advantage on.

"Hup!" One of the two guards call when they pop out into the outlook, and Piper barely has the chance to see a familiar rifle sailing through the air before Blue catches it in mid-motion. "Almost in range, Gen'ral. Lots of 'em, this time. Dozen and a half, at least."

"Stubborn asses," Blue mutters under her breath; dropping to one knee by the waist-high wall that surrounds the outlook and resting the rifle's barrel on it. "We've got this side; you two grab the other."

"'Got this'?" Piper wonders when the guards scramble obediently.

"Yeah." Those eyes are shifting from her to the land outside Sanctuary to the rifle; Blue's hands flickering over the metal with a series of clinks and clunks as she adjusts and loads. "The scope is good but slow to aim with, and looking up from it makes me have to start over getting my bearings _through_ it. You're gonna be my far-sight."

The guards behind them – both facing the other side now – are setting up in a similar way, Piper notes; one kneeling with a rifle and one beside him without.

"I'm aiming towards 3 o'clock," Blue's voice pulls her back; one hand pointing to the walls and the numbers Piper's wondered about but never enough to _ask_ , and _now_ she gets what the clocks are for. "So if you spot someone a fraction to my left, say 'ten to', and 'ten past' if it's a little to my right. Half to, half past, 2 o'clock, 4 o'clock, so on." As she speaks, she redirects her aim in the directions she's mentioning, and finally glances back at Piper with a quirked brow. "Got me?"

"Gotcha." She watches the towers by walls two through four and seven through nine get manned – two people apiece; one standing to actually fire and one sitting to prepare ammo clips, she guesses – and then trains her eyes on the wasteland beyond the walls. "3 o'clock."

 _Pow! Chk-click, click-chk._ "Down."

"Ten past five."

 _Pow! Chk-click, click-chk._ "Down."

"Half past two." Piper squints a little. "Bigger than the others."

"I see him." Blue's voice is low, but still audible over both the sound of both the two guards behind them, and the firefight now starting for real down on the ground. "Armored up. Gimme a second." One slow breath, then another, and then: _Pow! Chk-click, click-chk._ "Down. Three of how many?"

She takes a quick count. "Another si-" A pause as another raider drops; felled by fire from one of the towers. "Five, now."

"Arslan?" Blue doesn't even lift her chin from the rifle's stock, but her voice raises enough to carry the few feet. "How many left on your side?"

"Six, Gen'ral," comes the wryly amused answer. "Slow down a little and let us catch up, wouldya?"

"Not my fault my spotter's eyes are better than yours," Blue returns; the slightest tug at the corner of her mouth "Piper, gimme another one."

"Ten to four," Piper obliges peacefully; expecting the question and so already having an answer at hand.

 _Pow! Chk-click, click-chk._ "Down."

"Two left, Blue."

"Good enough." Blue takes a deeper breath now, and straightens. "Arslan?"

"Three, Gen'ral. Turning tail, it looks like."

"Here too," Blue nods; clicking the rifle's safety back on before putting the weapon aside and standing, and then taking a grand total of maybe four steps away to ring the bell mounted on one of the posts three times.

Below, cheers break out immediately, and Piper figures that the gunfire stops because ammo is most certainly not something to be wasted if a victory has already been declared. She does ask, later that night when they're alone and Blue's full attention is hers for the taking, why the last raiders were allowed to escape. Even if she personally agrees with it, she wonders at _Blue's_ motivation.

"For one, because I don't want to kill when no one is at risk," Blue answers, and then grins a little. "And for another, because the power of rumor is very effective. Never underestimate the outlandish tales that a tough group will tell to explain why they ran from settlers. I figure we'll all be fifteen feet tall and breathing fire by the time the story makes it back here."

"Single feather into five hens?" Piper wonders, over the rim of a steaming mug.

Blue chuckles. "Something like that," she agrees.

Then she _clucks_ , and Piper starts laughing so hard that she almost inhales her coffee.


	17. Moment 017: Ashes to Ashes

'Hold on to your butt.' Really? She realizes that she's probably focusing a little too much on that phrasing – that _yell_ , honestly – but it was the last thing Blue would have heard before she disappeared in a flash so bright that everyone watching was blinking for the next hour. It kind of feels like Piper herself is still blinking, but she _was_ also staring directly into that beam as it swallowed Blue up; trying to keep her in sight for as long as possible.

Now, she just tries to keep herself busy in an effort to distract herself from _worrying_ so damn much; something that's thankfully still easy at Sanctuary, for all the progress that the people here have made. It gets progressively harder, though, the longer Blue is gone, because she vanished to God knows where all on her own, and as much as Piper would love to track her down, she doesn't have the faintest of clues where to even _start_ looking.

" _Be. Careful," she'd told her quietly, in a final moment of peace and solitude when Blue had finished changing back into her jumpsuit and armor for the first time since Piper had been here. "Please. And get back in one piece; both of you. I wanna meet this kid."_

" _I definitely want to see that happen," had come the amused agreement, and then Blue had hugged her and Piper had hugged her back and bit her tongue until she almost tasted blood to stop herself from protesting or yelling or demanding to come along because dammit, someone needed to be there to watch her back._

_The interceptor could only pick up one person, and both of them knew that. So what would be the point?_

By now it's been _two days_ since that crack of lightning and the empty platform, and Piper feels like she's slowly going crazy because she can't shake the thought that _something must be wrong_. Granted, teleporting headfirst into the Institute on a hijacked wave of energy was always a fine example of desperate times calling for desperate measures, and the fact that Blue would _then_ have to make her way through a space that they don't even know the size and complexity of - one that could very easily be _crawling_ with enemies both synthetic and human – that worries her. Even if Blue is definitely _that good_ , there is still a chance that...

No. Blue is fine. Piper takes a breath and hikes the rifle up a little higher on her shoulder; forcing herself to focus on the road and the bridge that she's helping to guard right now. Blue _has_ to be fine, because if she wasn't, Piper's heart would have just simply stopped beating.

And of course, it's in the exact moment of that thought flitting across her mind that heart heart _does_ stop for a very long second, because a flash of color catches her eye – grabs and focuses her attention so instantly that it's almost dizzying – and there is Blue; walking peacefully up the cracked tarmac as if Piper's thoughts simply pulled her into existence.

Alone.

Physically, Piper decides after scanning her anxiously, she seems to be perfectly fine. Mentally, however, she looks to be so far away that she doesn't even realize where she is, so Piper holds up a hand; two fingers pointing upwards and the rest curled towards her palm before the other guard can get out a signaling whistle; a sign that means 'wait', though she can't be sure whether these people were taught by Preston or Blue.

"Hang on, Ash," she tells the other woman; climbing down from the tower and clicking the gate open. "Something's up. Gimme me a minute."

"Sure thing," comes the easy answer, instead of the high trill that would have alerted everyone and probably have pulled more than a few people down the road to play welcome wagon. "You know her better than anyone."

From the corner of her eye, Piper catches the motion of the other guard turning in place – for the benefit of their privacy, she guesses – as she slips through the gate. She doesn't _sprint_ over to Blue; mostly because she's still approaching as if by little more than instinct, her neck bent and her eyes pointed at the ground in front of her.

Startling that hair-trigger mind is usually a bad idea, so Piper jogs until she's about fifty feet away, and then slows to a walk. "Hey, Blue?"

Nothing – not even a twitch – and now Piper is more than just a little worried. She's halfway convinced that Blue could hear grass grow if she really put her mind to it, so getting no sign of her picking up on a clear call? Probably not good because then she is just _that far gone_ in her own head, and the few times she's seen that happen before, it has never been for good reasons.

"Blue?" A little softer now because she's close enough to barely be able to hear her breathing, and when there's still no response, she lifts a hand and lays a very light, tiny touch to one armored shoulder. "Blue?"

"Wh-" There's a sudden tremor in the sturdy body under her fingers, and Blue's head whips up sharply; eyes wide and hands already grabbing until Piper catches those wrists and gently holds them in place. "Oh. Piper." An exhale and long look; at her, at the area around them, and at the gate just ahead. Then, a frown. "When did I get here?"

Oh, boy. "Just now," she replies softly; rubbing her thumbs slowly over the insides of the wrists she holds, and feeling long fingers curl around her own wrists in return. "But you're still a million miles away in your head, I think." A pause, then, until those eyes meet hers. "You holdin' up, Blue?"

"N-, I d-" A sigh, and those eyes close while Blue gives her head a little shake as if to clear it. "Too many thoughts."

"That's okay," Piper promises; setting one of those hands on her own shoulder because she knows by now that touch helps, and thereby freeing one of her own to cup a warm cheek. "If you want to share, I'll listen, and if you want me to back off, just say so. Okay?"

"Okay." A longer breath this time – slower – and then the faint weight of a forehead against her own. "I found Shaun," Blue tells her when her eyes open, but that look isn't near as happy as Piper thinks it should be, given what she's saying. "He's not ten years old, but sixty." There's a brief rush of what could have been laughter if her eyes weren't aching so much. "He's running the Institute. And he wants me to join them."

"Wuh-" Her breath leaves her in a whoosh like she's been punched in the stomach. "What?"

"Yeah." Blue smiles wryly, though Piper can only tell that much from the movement of skin under her palm. "So. Too many thoughts."

Well, she can't really blame her for that.


	18. Moment 018: Dust to Dust

They leave Sanctuary not long after that. Actually, they do it so early the next day that it's technically still night, and part of Piper is wondering a little at the wisdom of that because she doesn't think that either of them got a wink of sleep. Her own head sure didn't stop spinning long enough for anything even approaching rest so she can't even imagine what Blue is feeling, but...

" _I need to get out of here," Blue had said, in the half-darkness of the small sleeping area and the quiet of either way too late or much too early. "I can't stop... thinking. It's- I need... something else to focus on."_

" _Okay." Piper had patted her side and pushed herself to a seat. "Grab your boots, then. Let's go."_

So they say their goodbyes to the few people awake and go, and there's a very long stretch of time where Blue is even more quiet than she usually is; where she only really perks up when they're getting themselves into trouble solving _other_ people's problems, and Piper figures that's because it distracts her from her own.

She doesn't push for answers; not yet. Even if her tongue is practically _burning_ with all the questions she wants to ask (What's it like there? Where is it? What are the people like? How are you feeling?), she shoves them away and focuses on just watching Blue's back while her best friend tries to get a handle on everything, no matter how much trouble she gets herself into in the intervening time. Piper likes trouble, loves Blue and probably has a healthier fear of the Institute than most, so she needs some time to get everything worked out, too.

The Institute has always been the monster in the closet, but she really doesn't want to think of Blue's _son_ as a monster, even if she knows that he never had his mother's guiding hand in terms of morality because he's more than twice Blue's age, and frankly, thinking about the whole thing gives her a headache.

It used to be that Blue would talk about her son and not her husband, but after the first time they come across the Brotherhood of Steel by way of Paladin Danse and a shitload of ferals, that seems to be turned on its head.

"I'm not sure I like this, Blue," Piper admits; softly, in a corner of the old police station in the middle of the night because they're staying there for now. "These guys reek of testosterone and spur-of-the-moment, bad decisions."

"And motor oil," Blue adds, and rubs her back a little because much to Piper's joy, they still sleep the way they did back at Sanctuary. "Well, mostly Danse for that, I guess." She sighs a little, then, and Piper watches the moonlight slip through the cracks in the boarded-up windows and listens to her heartbeat. "They're soldiers, Piper. They have their hearts in the right place just like Nate did, but they have to follow orders."

"Isn't there an age-old saying about the road to a certain place being paved with good intentions?"

A soft snort rumbles through the chest under her ear. "There is," Blue admits wryly. "I think it's even a true one, a lot of the time. But the last thing this place needs is another boogeyman with an unknown agenda, so I still want to figure out what these guys are up to. What their orders are."

Hm. "So how do we do that?"

"Talk to the guy in charge, probably."

Piper considers that. "You don't mean Danse, do you?"

"No." There's a slow scratching at the center of her back, because just as Piper knows what calms Blue and when she needs it, Blue is starting to figure out both of those about _her_. "I mean Danse's CO – Commanding Officer, if it's still called that – further up the line of rank. The 'Elder Maxson' he mentioned, I guess."

"You're really gonna have to sign up for that to happen, aren't you?" Piper wonders while her guts clench. "You, specifically, because they sure aren't interested in me."

"Their loss." A soft kiss presses against her forehead, and Piper just closes her eyes because if she looks at her right now she's going to reveal way too much. "But yeah. Probably." There's a long silence, and then Blue's hold around her tightens briefly. "I'll take you back to Diamond City first, if you want. Nat probably misses you, and I'm not going to ask you to come along for this."

"You don't have to." Piper sighs and presses closer, and resigns herself to worrying herself sick for another while. "I'd follow you into hell, Blue, so if you're going, I'll stuff my pockets full of as much ice as I can find and be right there with you all the way." She finds a smile, somewhere. "Gonna be one heck of a story, anyway."

That earns her another kiss. "Thank you."


	19. Moment 019: Up in the Air

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Question, because it's something I'm doing deliberately and no one has brought it up so I'm not sure if anyone's noticed: What does Blue look like?

ArcJet Systems is actually a pretty good description of hell, Piper thinks; though not until it's all over and she's trying to get everything straightened out in her head. Actually entering the crumbling building and hunting down the deep-range transmitter – and she _still_ doesn't know exactly what that is – was too nightmarish for her to do anything other than just stay alive. There were synths and super mutants practically crawling from the walls, and several moments where only a skillfully placed shot saved her ass.

Piper is starting to think that Blue _has_ to keep her at least at the very edge of her vision, with how those last-second shots keep coming out of nowhere like a... well, like a bolt from the blue. That's perfectly fine, of course – flattering, even – but it does stoke that terrible, useless hope in her chest; something she only keeps beating down with the knowledge that every time Blue swoops in, Piper becomes a little less worthy of her.

Whatever works, she reminds herself, because she still needs to _get over this_.

"Where did you learn to fight?" she asks her – barely even knows what time it is or where they are; just that it's _after_ – because she wants to know. "Assuming that the cryopod didn't have some sort of combat experience injector."

Blue snorts in response, and seems a lot less rattled than Piper is. "At this point, I wouldn't be surprised if it did," she tells her. "But I did learn. Only practice, though; for fun, more than anything. Stress-relief, maybe."

"Before?"

"Mm." A crooked smile. "Court always got so intense; it helped to spend an hour or so to get the jitters out of my system." She pauses, then, and hums. "Feels a little silly, actually. Compared to life now? That was nothing."

Piper only really comes fully back to herself when they're boarding the vertibird ("I'm not going without her," Blue says, and that's enough), and startles a little at how _tall_ Blue looks standing inside it; even if she's bending over to hold out a hand for her. Blue _is_ taller than her, but it's only by about half a head so Piper tends to forget, just like she tends to forget how _strong_ her best friend is; enough that she's pulled into the massive machine by a single arm that feels like it could lift her entire weight without too much trouble. Blue's muscles are lean, but they're every bit as solid as Blue herself.

If it wasn't for the bone-deep friendship that Piper _knows_ Blue feels for her, she doubts that her pre-war friend would have any use for her at all. So small mercies, she thinks, even if that undeniable affection _also_ makes her forget, sometimes – makes her mind go off in a completely different direction only to trip over itself – like now, with the two of them sitting in a remarkably small space for such a huge vehicle; Piper feeling like her stomach is trying to lunge out of her mouth as the earth shrinks beneath them, and Blue peacefully dangling her legs in the air and leaning back against Piper's knee from her perch on the floor.

She looks, Piper considers, _far_ too relaxed for someone sitting right in a _massive, gaping hole_ in a wall that's getting ever further from solid ground. Danse's matching unconcern isn't surprising; he probably has magnets in the feet of his power armor, so she ignores him (as always) and focuses on Blue, because the peacefully absorbed look on her face – in profile, since Blue is watching the view while Piper watches her – oddly calms _her_ a little.

Blue must sense the attention since her head turns enough for their eyes to meet, and Piper is glad that the whoosh of the blades and the rush of the wind is loud, because those are the only things drowning out the way her breath hiccups in her throat when Blue grins; full and warm and enough to make her eyes just _glow_ , lit by the sun in a way that she never was in the shifting shadows of ancient ruins, with the wind whipping her hair around her head and blowing flickering locks in front of her face.

Two fingers point at those eyes before a single one then points away – _Look. There._ – and Piper follows the gesture and sees Diamond City in the distance; such a massive space, and yet still dwarfed by the destroyed remains of what used to be a city in itself. And... she _knew_ , of course, how big 'Boston' was; has walked its cracked and crumbling streets enough to know how far they stretch.

But until this moment it was a very abstract sort of knowing, and the very _real_ knowing of right now honestly makes her eyes sting. That – at its prime – was Blue's world; massive, sprawling and wealthy, filled with more than she can possibly imagine, and it's staggering to realize.

_Look at how big my world was. Look at how small it is now._

_Look at how little I have left, and at how you are still the most important thing in it._

Not that Blue says that, of course, with her voice or her hands; that's just Piper's brain waxing poetic, and she firmly tells it to shut up. Still, there's an arm winding around her calves and a head coming to rest on her knees, and she reaches out a hand to slip her fingers into soft, wind-whipped hair.

And watches Blue watch the world.


	20. Moment 020: Taste of Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly not completely happy with this, but since I've been glowering at it for hours, I've decided that I'm just psyching myself out.

The Prydwen is impressive; Piper can admit to that no matter how much she distrusts its inhabitants. She's also aware that her distrust isn't based on much other than hearsay and a gut feeling, so she _tries_ to keep an open mind, even if the mindless 'Sir, yes, Sir!' mentality makes her teeth itch. That _might_ , she allows, be due to her father and what soldiering did for him, but being overly cautious has saved her life as many times as rushing in headfirst has endangered it.

Balance, she muses, and envies Blue's apparent ease in this very military environment about as much as she worries about it. Piper trusts her, of course – with anything and everything, no questions asked – but she also knows enough to realize that given who her husband was, Blue is probably finding it very easy to relate to these people; moreso than to pretty much anyone else. And that... kind of scares her. Mainly because she doesn't want to lose _Blue_ , but also because Blue is fast becoming a symbol ('everyone's favorite vault dweller') that the Commonwealth in itself can ill afford to lose, and definitely not to the Brotherhood of Steel.

Yes, this is basically in undercover operation, but she still wants to keep an eye out. If Blue ends up tempted to stay... well, then it's Piper's job to at least make sure that her best friend knows what she's getting into.

As for anything beyond that... she honestly wouldn't have the heart to force Blue out of something that made her happy. No matter how much it would hurt to watch her walk away.

Knight. Piper eyes her as the two of them follow a squire along the walkways and halls, because that title _fits her_ and it is incredibly annoying to have something so suitable come from an organization like this. Irrational, probably, but it feels like the Brotherhood has staked a claim and she desperately wants that to _not_ be the case because Blue doesn't belong to anyone. Certainly not to Arthur Maxson who – charismatic as he admittedly is – can't possibly have anything good in mind for the Commonwealth and its people.

She does have to appreciate the fact the he's given Blue private quarters. God knows that she wouldn't get a wink of sleep in the shared quarters for lower-ranked crew, so there's at least _some_ amount of relief in the heavy _clang_ of a steel door closing behind them. The walls are steel too, of course, which means that they're thicker and actually pretty effective for blocking out sound, because the only thing she can hear is the faint hum of the Prydwen itself, and even that is so low that it's skirting the border of inaudibility.

It's oddly peaceful; just the two of them alone. Right in the middle of a hundred or more members of the Brotherhood of Steel.

Oh, _God_ , why did Blue even want her along when Piper's only real talent seems to be getting them both into the most hellacious kinds of trouble? Most of the time getting _herself_ back out of it is either a stroke of sheer, dumb luck or simple providence by way of Blue, so it's a very good thing indeed that her best friend is just that talented.

“Shit,” she sighs, and rubs at her forehead. “What did I get us into this time?”

“You didn't get us into anything,” comes the answer from across the room, where Blue is poking around the worn desk sitting against the opposite wall. “This is all me, remember?”

Piper sends her a look. “Clearly, I'm rubbing off on you,” she grumbles, and watches the frown form as Blue turns and approaches. She's joking, of course. Kind of. “God. Loud, pushy and constantly getting in over my head,” she jokes. It mustn't be carrying because Blue's frown only gets deeper. “I honestly don't get why you even want me arou--”

She only stops speaking because Blue kisses her – not long or hard; just a tiny, soft little peck that's _barely_ lip against lip before she pulls back with an almost-audible snap – and then Piper just _stands there_ like an absolute, fucking idiot; not even blinking or breathing because _WHAT_ , and words, apparently, have left her.

Partly, anyway.

”Wha... ab... uh...” _Now_ she manages to blink, and apparently her brain is dead set on catching up on what it missed, because her eyelids are fluttering so rapidly that she can barely see. ”I-- y--” A loud, shuddering breath. ”Huh?!”

Blue is watching her, and there's an uncertain little twist to her mouth while her right hand fiddles with the Pip-Boy. ”Was that a bad thing to do?”

”N-- no? I mea-- no.” _Words, Piper! Whole ones!_ ”Bu... J--” She makes a sound that's somewhere between a groan and growl; setting one hand on her hip and holding up the other with two fingers pointing to the ceiling ( _Wait_ ) while she drops her head forward and takes a breath because _Lord,_ what is English? It actually takes several breaths before she lifts her head again, but at least her tongue doesn't feel quite as large or unwieldy anymore. ”Why?”

There's a minute cant of Blue's head, and her lips purse while her gaze flicks around the room; the silence stretching for several heartbeats – of Piper's, anyway, which are very, _very_ fast – before she speaks. ”Partly because I thought it might work.” That with a tiny, upwards tug at the corner of her mouth. ”Mostly because I wanted to.” A pause, then, with those eyes dropping to the floor before looking back up. ”If that's okay?”

Hazily, Piper wonders if the air is thinner at this height, because it certainly feels like there isn't enough of it. ”Wh-- yes, of co--” The words die in her throat because Blue is suddenly much closer - enough that Piper can feel the brush of a nose against her own when she's trapped by those _eyes_ – and something very deep and very essential in her is shaking when a warm hand cradles her cheek. ”Um.” She tries to keep both her breathing and her voice steady, but isn't sure how successful she is. ”Might... work? In what way?”

“In making you stop demeaning yourself.” Blue's voice is soft; even a little sad. “Please don't do that. You're my keystone.” Their foreheads are touching now, and Piper is desperately trying to figure out what to do with her hands other than let them clench at her own pockets. “And if it's okay... may I kiss you again?”

There is no way that she just heard that, Piper thinks, and feels her chest jolt while her head swims. No goddamn way did Blue just ask that question, because what in the _hell_ would someone that incredible want with _her?_

But the mouth... oh, the mouth speaks out of that which fills the heart.

“Yes,” she breathes, and then Blue is just _there_. _Everywhere;_ all soft lips and slow breaths; as solid as the steel at her back but much, _much_ warmer. Somewhere, Piper realizes that when that yielding weight presses her back _against_ the metal, she herself makes a little noise that's an odd sort of cross between a gasp and a whimper, and she has to grab for Blue's arms because her legs really don't feel like they're going to hold her up.

She's drowning; in the feel, the scent, the _taste_ of what she'd never even dared to imagine; carried helplessly and willingly away by that warm mouth, the secure hold that circles her waist and the gentle – _so_ gentle – fingers that curl in her hair. Blue smells of fresh air and _life_ and tastes like _home_ , and her hands – her entire body – is an anchor that Piper is frankly grateful to have because it might just be the only thing keeping her upright.

Blue is pulling back, so Piper follows; wills her shaking hands to still and grab those solid shoulders; to hold and _tug_ until that mouth is back against her own and there's a low, deep groan that reverberates all the way down her spine.

Intensity. Heart-stopping, breathtaking, hand-trembling intensity that makes her entire body heat up in a flash from the gut outwards; makes her _moan_ into Blue's mouth when she finds herself pressed bodily into the wall behind her. Touches; light, careful, but so electric that it feels as if they send bolts of energy sparking over her skin; consuming and frightening and exhilarating and _everything_ all at once.

When they do part, it's only their mouths; Blue's forehead is still touching warmly against hers, and there are hands clasping her hips and pinning her against the steel. Her own fingers are digging into the skin behind Blue's ears, and Piper stares into those newly-darkened, heavily lidded eyes and thinks distractedly that considering how much time they spend running from one place to the next, the fact that _both_ of them are out of breath says a lot.

“Uh.” Blue blinks once, twice, and the deep, wanting look in her eyes fades in favor of a familiar warmth. “Wow.” The little laugh she gives is barely more than a halfway-shy puff of breath against Piper's face, and the hands on her hips loosen their hold while Blue clears her throat. “Um... still okay?”

“Yeah.” Piper laughs, too; soft and short and shaky because she's giddy and breathless and doesn't know where that even _came from,_ but she's also not about to complain. “Yeah, still okay.”

Now those lips brush against her cheek; gentle, but lingering; tracing over her skin and moving down to her jaw before following its line towards her ear, and Piper closes her eyes and tilts her head to provide better room. Long arms wrap carefully around her, and Piper shifts her own touch to the back of Blue's neck and head and reminds herself to _breathe_ , because she has the feeling that if this ever goes further – which seems very likely right now – she herself is going to simply combust into a ball of flame with a perfect, little _phoof_.

“Blue?” She needs to know and they _did_ talk about actually talking to each other, so she pushes through the haze that her mind is cheerfully rolling around in and finds enough focus to speak. “What--” A curious, little nibble behind the curve of her jaw makes her breath catch, and her fingers tighten against the collar of the jumpsuit. “Is this a physical thing?”

“Yes.” The answer is low and breathy and right next to her ear, and although hearing it makes her stomach both drop _and_ clench, she tangles her fingers in Blue's hair and pulls her up and back until she can kiss her again.

That's okay, Piper thinks as she pulls her in tighter. Maybe in time.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight canon-tweaking here, in that Blue already has private quarters on the Prydwen. That, by the way, is going to keep happening and get more overt, because I have plans for this fic that do not include the _Kill everyone who disagrees with you_ 'solution'. I'll admit that going canon-fiddler wasn't originally the idea, but this entire thing is pretty much me flying by the seat of my pants anyway, so why not?
> 
> Yes, smut is going to happen eventually. No, Blue isn't an insensitive asshole. ;) Yes, I have reasons for ending the scene the way I did, and at least a few readers have already figured out something very important as to what those reasons are.
> 
> On a totally unrelated note, Piper's reaction to that first little kiss is pretty much what I imagine a good ol' computer error to feel like:
> 
> NOT READY READING INPUT  
> > (A)BORT, (R)ETRY, (F)AIL?


	21. Moment 021: Lost and Found

Three years is a long time in the Commonwealth; long enough for any settlement to be founded and wiped out at least a dozen times over, for hopes to live and die by the thousands, and for most any corpse to fully decompose. Luckily, it isn't near long enough for distress pulsers to be destroyed without some other kind of interference, so no matter how far-fetched the idea of actually finding a sign of the last Brotherhood recon team sounded, Blue's Pip-Boy still manages to pick up a signal; even if it's only after several hours of aimless wandering and way more ferals than Piper is comfortable with.

"Jesus." In spite of what Blue is _saying_ , her voice is low and shocked enough that it sounds like she's cursing, and Piper keeps her pistol out and her eyes peeled while Blue approaches the crater that used to be a house and crouches; gingerly running her fingers over a badly damaged chunk of power armor. "This thing is completely fused together. What the hell were these guys up against that the blast was _that_ hot?"

"Suiciders, maybe?" Piper hazards; casting a glance towards her companion when she feels her skin prickle. "Ooor some kind of mini nuke. Watch the rads, Blue; don't want wrinkles before your time."

"I'm fine," comes the easy dismissal, and Piper swallows a sigh, but does roll her eyes since Blue isn't watching, anyway.

A large part of her hates the fact that they're out here to help the _Brotherhood;_ a faction that certainly has the resources to help itself in direct contrast to so many others in the Commonwealth. Another large part, however, knows that no matter their relation, these are – _were_ , most likely – still people, and they deserve to be found even if they weren't people that she personally would have seen eye to eye with.

There's a soft _snap_ behind her followed by silence, and she sends another glance over her shoulder to see Blue now kneeling by the one, whole suit of armor that lies further from the crater's center; her neck bent and her eyes closed, one hand settled on the armor's helmet while her lips move soundlessly in the light of a fading afternoon.

Yeah. Piper presses her lips together. Were.

"Varham," Blue sighs when she lifts her head again, and unfolds the fingers of her other hand to let a set of holotags fall and dangle from them; the metal glistening under the reddening sun. "He had a log on him, at least." The side of the Pip-Boy snaps open, and Piper doesn't comment on the fact that Blue rubs at her eyes before loading the tape in. "Let's see if he can point us towards some of his buddies."

"Hey." The silence is reassuring enough that Piper leaves her watch; instead crossing over to Blue and crouching in front of her before she can start the tape playing. "First things first, okay?" She pulls a small bottle of Rad-X from her pocket, and pops one pill into her own mouth before offering a second to Blue.

Who frowns. "It's not that bad, Piper. Really, I'm f-"

Piper folds the pill into her palm, and stops the other woman speaking by placing a finger to her lips. "Humor me," she insists softly, and lifts her eyebrows. "Please? Who knows what else we'll run into."

Blue watches her a for a long moment, but gives a quiet, little sigh and nods. "Alright." She holds out a hand for the pill, but Piper simply slips it back between her own fingers and presses it against Blue's lips; feeling them relax and accept it, and tracing her thumb gently over their softness while Blue swallows the dose.

Things between them haven't really changed that much, she muses, since that first day aboard the Prydwen. The just touch each other a little more often and in some new, more personal ways. And kiss. Sometimes.

"You really do worry too much," Blue tells her.

"Well, that's only fair," Piper rejoins, and sticks her tongue out in exchange for a low snort. "I mean, jeez, Blue; you're pretty much carrying the entire Commonwealth and then some. At least let me worry about keeping you healthy while you haul all that weight."

That earns her a chuckle and a smile, as well as a pleasant, little shiver down the length of her spine when Blue catches her hand and kisses it. "I guess that is pretty fair," she agrees, and twines their fingers in a slow slide of soft skin. "Thank you."

 _Labor of love_. She doesn't say that out loud, of course; keenly aware of the fact that if she reveals that much, their _very_ affectionate friendship will probably go back to how it was before the Prydwen, if only because Blue wouldn't want to lead her on. Piper doesn't want that indefinable distance back, because even though this is a purely physical thing from Blue's side, losing it has been one of the best things to ever happen.

Blue reaches out to her more often, the way things are now. She _speaks up_ more often; starts a new conversation or changes the topic of a running one far more than she has in the past. She talks about things that Piper hasn't dared to bring up herself; of Nate, of life as it was before the war, of Shaun when he was a baby. She takes Piper's hand when they're walking along and the world around them is intermittently peaceful, and pulls her away from their chosen path when something catches her attention because she wants Piper to see whatever it is, too.

Blue seems so much more comfortable around her now, even if she certainly didn't seem to be _un_ comfortable before. So yeah, Piper is keeping mum. She isn't going to run the risk of taking away this new level of openness; no matter how much Blue's revealing of her – at times – _astoundingly_ short attention span slows them down overall.

This; the two of them just sitting together in the middle of loss and destruction and there still being a smile on Blue's face and warmth in those lovely eyes? That's worth it. Every single moment.

So they follow Varham's pointers deeper down the rabbit hole – Piper reminds herself to ask Blue just what the hell a rabbit _is_ and why it would need holes – and continue their searching on behalf of the Brotherhood.

God, what a mess.


	22. Moment 022: Downtime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longest chapter yet, and it's basically filler and fluff. Ah, well.

Blue still picks up books whenever she finds them; probably more of them now, really, since she's also gathering documentation for Proctor Quinlan. She doesn't hand over everything, of course; the Brotherhood is only interested in information on technology, while Blue herself doesn't seem to much care what the topic is, as long as it includes something new to her. One of the books is Blue's pack right now is one on biology, and Piper guesses that it's sitting untouched because there isn't anything in there that Blue doesn't already know, or that she particularly needs to read up on because the subject, obviously, is _pre-war_ biology.

Piper finds it kind of fascinating, though. It seems to be a school book of some kind; roughly equal amounts of text and images, and though the pages are faded and yellowed – in some cases outright missing – the book is still readable and makes a decent distraction from the fact that she's alone in their shared quarters on the Prydwen.

Blue – near as she knows – is still over at Quinlan's office; poring over newly returned documents with him and his assigned scribes in a shared excitement of re-discovery that Piper finds as cute as she does worrying. Quinlan is absolutely tickled pink to have a real, live source of pre-war knowledge to check his facts against, and Blue is undoubtedly glad to spend some time around like minds who carry almost as much sheer brainpower as she does.

Piper herself isn't stupid, of course, but she'll happily admit that Blue's smarts are out of pretty much anyone's league. She has literally watched the woman read an entire book in a matter of _minutes_ ; scanning her eyes over the page a single time before turning to the next one, and seeming for all the world as if she's absorbing the information in a single look more than reading it letter by letter. When she thinks about it, Piper remembers seeing similar things happen when they're out in the wasteland; most recently when they were closing in on the remains of Astlin and suddenly found themselves being charged at by a dozen ferals in a very enclosed space.

She didn't actively notice in the moment, but thinking back, she remembers casting a glance in Blue's direction; seeing a faint shiver run through her entire body while her eyelids fluttered at least five times in under a second. Then eight shots had rung out in quick succession; dropping eight of the ferals in order from the closest to the farthest away, and Piper figures that what she saw was Blue somehow sucking in every available bit of information so fast that her body physically reacted to the strain that processing it was putting on her mind.

It worked, obviously, since they're both safely back on the Prydwen; complete with one long-lost Brotherhood member whose welcome... is actually giving her a lot to think about.

Piper wouldn't trust the Brotherhood any further than she'd be able to throw one of their suits of power armor unaided. But watching Brandis return after some incredibly fast legwork of the mouth on Blue's part... that is making her think that maybe – _maybe_ – joining them is the best option that a lot of people can imagine; finding a job and a purpose all in one go, and being surrounded by people who in some ways probably feel like as much of a family as the name suggests.

"Hey." The door clicks open, and Piper glances up at the silence that follows; seeing Blue pause in the doorway with a tray of food in one hand and the other resting on the handle, with her eyes flicking from Piper to the bed and back in obvious puzzlement. "Why are you sitting on the floor?"

Because she cannot run the risk of feeling comfortable here. Her answer, however, is a chuckle while she dog-ears the page she got to and closes the book; watching Blue enter the room and close the door behind her. "My back is bugging me," she says, and leans back against the steel wall while Blue crosses over to the desk and sets the tray down; it's a half-truth, because it _was_ bugging her a little when they first returned. "I figured maybe this would help."

"Oh, hooey," Blue grumbles; offering her hands and waiting for them to be taken before tugging Piper to her feet. "I knew a chiropractor before the war who'd have spanked you for that." Her hand nudges at Piper's head until she's leaning forward and resting it on a very comfy shoulder, and the fingers trailing curiously over anything from the top of her neck to the base of her spine are enough to make her slump bonelessly into her best friend's sturdy frame. "Okay." The hands still; one at the bottom of her neck and the other at the center of her back. "Deep breath."

A little confused but happy enough to oblige, Piper takes one, and feels – when she exhales – both of those hands gently pinch and twist enough to cause two faint clicks, and something along her spine shifts enough to send tingles up to the top of her skull. "Oh, wow."

"Better?" Blue's voice is a cross between fond amusement and wry exasperation, and when Piper nods into her shoulder, there are fingers scratching lightly at the back of her neck while a gentle kiss presses against her temple. "Good. Tell me next time, okay?"

"Okay." She straightens enough to roll her head to one side and then the other, and decides that whatever Blue just did, it certainly worked. "Where did you learn to do that?"

"Law books are very, very thick, and therefore very, very heavy," is the dry response; one hand pushing at Piper's sternum until she drops to a seat on the bed and watches Blue amble over to the desk to secure the tray. "When I was in college and had to cart those things around on a daily basis, I constantly had a crick somewhere." The mattress dips when she sits down next to Piper with the tray in her lap. "I had to either learn to how to prevent and fix it or lose my mind, and I figured that with all the junk you help me carry – thank you, by the way – it was probably the same thing"

"Well, I definitely don't mind reaping the benefits of your experience." Piper accepts the plate of food when it's offered, and hides a smile at the stern look that's aimed her way until she takes a bite. "You're such a mom."

Blue shrugs easily, and finishes chewing before speaking. "Comes with the territory, probably."

"Mm." They eat in silence for a while; shoulder to shoulder in spite of there certainly being enough room to spread out, and Piper idly appreciates the fact that Blue seems to prefer the peace of them being alone because she doubts that they'd be sitting like this if they were eating with everyone else. "How'd it go with Quinlan? You were gone for a while."

There must be something a little off about her voice or her expression, because Blue pauses with her lips around the tines of her fork and studies her for a moment. "You're welcome to come with me, you know."

"I know." Piper gives her knee a little squeeze. "But honestly, Blue, I can barely keep up with _you_ when you go into braniac mode. Hanging around a brain-trust like that would probably make mine just melt and dribble out of my ears."

Blue seems to consider that, and then wrinkles her nose. "That's an... interesting mental image."

"You're welcome." The rude noise makes her smile, and she feels a similar motion under her lips when she presses them briefly to Blue's cheek. "So?"

"Hm?"

Piper chuckles. "Quinlan. How'd it go?"

"Oh." A blink, and Blue's back on track. "Fine, I think. I got them to take those old military psychology texts, now that Brandis is there to kind of need them." There's a pause while she secures and chews another bite. "What did you do?"

"Read, honestly," Piper admits a trifle sheepishly. "I was trying to figure out what a rabbit is."

"Really?" She can't quite tell if Blue looks more curious or amused. "Why?"

"Because I don't know." The mild flush tells her that Blue does indeed recognize one of her own standard responses for picking up a book on the most random thing. "I wanted to know what it means to 'go deeper down the rabbit hole', but that-" She gestures towards the now abandoned book. "- didn't really tell me anything."

Obligingly, Blue looks over. "Reptiles, amphibians and invertebrates," she reads aloud, and smiles a little. "No, it probably wouldn't. I think you want a book on either mammals or common pets for that."

"You could have a rabbit as a pet?"

"Yeah." Blue sets her now-empty plate aside on the small nightstand with a _clink_ , and holds a hand out for Piper's. "I had one. When I was a kid. He-" She gives a thoughtful little hum when she sets Piper's plate aside, too, and then stands; ambling over to the desk and ruffling for a few seconds before returning with a bent, but blank folder and a pencil that's clearly been sharpened with a blade. "Here." She settles herself back against the headboard and the wall both, and Piper agreeably shuffles up to join her; watching as Blue pulls up her knees and sets the folder on them.

She closes her eyes for a moment, Piper notes; watching in abject fascination as Blue's brow furrows in thought and her hands come up, palms open and fingers splaying around a rough, elongated shape.

"About this b-" Blue's eyes flutter open, and then she stops speaking; instead grunting a little as she now studies herself. "Ah; hang on. I'm quite a bit bigger now." Her hands move closer to each other until the shape is about half the size. "They're about this big; the tame kind, anyway," she explains; now dropping her hands to let one hold the folder against her knees, while the other – her left one – starts moving the pencil over it in long, sure strokes. "Very sweet little creatures. Soft, definitely." A body is taking shape on the folder - a profile, Piper guesses – rounded, with a back leg that's a fair bit larger and more curved than the front one.

"I didn't know you could draw," she offers, and rests her head on Blue's shoulder.

"Not a lot of use for it these days," is the answer, with a tiny hint of wistfulness that makes Piper curl a hand around the inside of Blue's elbow. In response, she feels the faint weight of a head coming to rest on top of hers; a silent sign that Blue recognizes the touch for the support it offers, and appreciates it. "That saying you mentioned?"

"Mm?" She watches the head take shape; also rounded, but with a slight protrusion at the very front where a few, quick lines deftly sketch in a tiny nose. "Going deeper down the rabbit hole?"

"That," Blue agrees. "Wild rabbits live in holes – warrens – but I think that came from a book that was old even in my day. 18... 65? Yeah. _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_ by Lewis Carroll." Piper feels the low chuckle more than she hears it. "The whole thing starts with a little girl skipping out on her homework because she sees a rabbit in a jacket-"

"A what?"

"Yeah." Louder chuckle this time. "And the rabbit is looking at a pocket watch and yelping about being late, so because Alice is curious, she follows him down the hole he goes into and gets into all sorts of trouble."

Piper considers that image while she watches a floppy ear get added. "Blue, that makes absolutely no sense."

"I know." She feels the twitch of a smile against the top of her head, and Blue's fingers are busily adding little details like an eye, hints of toes and what she guesses are darker spots on the fur. "Near as I understand, Lewis Carroll was a mathematician – a logician, really; real name was Charles Ludtwige Dogdson – and he wrote the book to make fun of the abstract style of math that was starting to pop up at the time. He basically thought that that stuff made about as much sense as a talking rabbit and everything else he put in there."

Well, there's a certain amount of logic to that, Piper supposes; especially for smartasses. "I'm guessing that story was a favorite of yours?"

"Pretty much anything featuring animals was," Blue admits; now using the pencil to create enough proper shadow to make the drawing go from two dimensions to three. "I'd always work pro bono – for free, basically – for people like the ASPCA; help them get abused animals away from owners who were mistreating them."

"ASPCA?"

"American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals." A careful hand works at the single eye; adding firmer, darker lines until Piper swears that she's being studied. "Animals are... they don't judge. They just want your time and your care, and in return, they love you. They don't care who you are, or think that you're-" The fingers around the pencil clench. "- weird, or whatever. They're always happy to see you." There's something in her voice that Piper wants to ask about, but then Blue blows out a breath and relaxes, and the moment is gone. "This guy was the first one to teach me that."

'This guy' is clearly the now fully drawn rabbit; growing a little more easily visible to Piper when Blue slips a hand under the upper corner of the folder and points the surface of it towards her. He's gray with darker gray spots along his back and sides – the color could simply be the medium Blue is limited to, of course – and is sitting up with his front legs fully extended; his head cocked to peer out at the watcher, one ear standing upright and the other hanging limply along the side of his head.

There's even a small leaf of some kind hanging from his mouth, and overall, it's a beautiful picture clearly created with a lot of love.

"I'm guessing he had a name," Piper hazards as she sits up a little straighter, and has to really work at fighting back a smile when Blue actually _blushes_.

"Well... yeah." Blue clears her throat, but whatever she says after that is so low that's basically an unintelligible mutter.

Piper bites the inside of her lip _hard_ , and has to lean in a little further to catch those eyes because they're pointed firmly at Blue's lap. "I'm sorry; what was that?"

A sigh. "I said..." Blue looks up now, and Piper guesses that she's doing a poor job at hiding her amusement because she is getting a definite _look_. "That his name was _Mister Wiggles_. It made sense to a five year old, okay? He'd always-" Her face scrunches a little; her lips pursing and her nose wiggling in imitation, and oh, _Lord_ , Piper doesn't know if it's possible to die from cuteness overload, but if it is, it's going to be because of this woman.

She manages not to laugh, though; even if she does have to hide a smile against Blue's shoulder.


	23. Moment 023: Midnight Conversations

Piper is going to have to revise her previous estimate, she considers; glancing around the inside of their Prydwen quarters in the low light of the single lamp that they leave on during the night. The first time they were in here together, they shared a kiss that _still_ makes her toes curl just thinking about it, and... well, based on that, she was kind of expecting this thing between them to head in a significantly more carnal direction very fast.

It hasn't. In fact, it hasn't even come close to the heart-pounding intensity of that kiss and that's _okay_ , but Piper is admittedly a little confused. And maybe a little frustrated, too, because Blue is ridiculously attractive and so obviously blind to her own appeal that there are times when Piper wants to shake her. Mornings are particularly interesting, because Blue never looks more alluring than when she's first waking up; basically a complete package of hooded eyes, lazy smiles, raspy words and long stretches.

If nothing else, the very obvious lack of interest in anything more intimate makes for an excellent push for Piper to get _out_ of bed in order to keep her hands to herself, so... silver linings.

Blue seems perfectly happy with simple, physical closeness; with holding hands, leaning on each other and curling up together at night, to the point where even kissing on the lips is relatively rare and happens maybe every other day on average. When it does, it's soft and sweet and so light that it borders on innocent, and while that never fails to make Piper's heart melt, she does wonder – just a little – where that spine-tingling burst of passion went.

She'll have to try to ask Blue about it, and ideally in a way that doesn't make her sound like a horny teenager, even if Blue has a shining talent for turning her into a puddle of hormonal goo with a simple look.

Now probably isn't the time, though. Piper isn't sure exactly what happened with Maxson earlier, but Blue has been oddly withdrawn ever since she returned from meeting with him. Piper asked, of course, practically the second she saw her _(What's wrong?),_ but Blue tightened her jaw and gave a little shake of her head; something that means that whatever it is, she needs to mull it over first.

Something she's still doing, Piper guesses, because the other odd thing about tonight is that _Blue_ is the one curling into _her_. That has happened before, even if it was only once; on the first night they spent together when Blue returned from the Institute. Combining that knowledge with how unsettlingly still – not just quiet – Blue is being... that translates into the fact that something must be really bothering her, because she literally _has not moved_ since they settled down for the night well over an hour ago, even if Piper can tell by the rhythm of her breathing that she's still awake.

"You know where to find me when you wanna clue me in, right?" she offers into the silence, and takes care to keep her voice light while she gives the center of Blue's back a slow scratch. "I'm the nosy one who tends to speak before she thinks."

That earns her an irritated little grunt, and the arms around her tighten while a sigh warms the top of her chest. "Please stop putting yourself down," Blue murmurs. "I don't like it."

Piper was actually trying to get a laugh or even a snort out of her, but... yeah. Blue really seems to have a thing about how Piper talks about herself, and while she can appreciate the sentiment behind that gentle disapproval, most of the things she says come from old, old habits that are very hard to break.

"I'll try," she promises, and feels the hum of acknowledgment more then she hears it. "You're still welcome to tell me what's making the gears in your head creak so loudly, though."

"I know." _Now_ Blue gives a little chuckle. "I've just been trying to get everything straightened out first." Her hold around Piper's waist loosens when she scoots back – not far, but enough for her face to come into view – and even in this light, Piper can make out the tiny flecks of lighter and darker color in those eyes. "I knew that the Brotherhood came here to fight the Institute," she then says, softly. "But I didn't realize until now that they're actually here to _destroy_ them."

Piper frowns at that, because she herself had easily inferred that much. Sharp as Blue is, though, there are still areas where she seems to have some very large blind spots. "You're worried about Shaun?"

Blue's mouth gives a little twist. "I'm worried about everyone," she corrects gently. "They're not bad people; the ones at the Institute, or the ones here. They're not badly led people, either-" That, Piper could argue with; she simply does not trust Maxson in any way, shape or form, but now probably isn't the time get into _that_ discussion. "- just..." Blue sighs. "There are so many assumptions and so much secrecy. Everybody is operating on hearsay and acting out of fear instead of thought; scared and ready to kill rather than investigate and decide based on fact."

"Blue?"

"Mm?"

Piper very deliberately keeps her voice soft. "The synths? Those aren't hearsay."

"No." Blue frowns faintly. "They're not. They're a scare tactic, but I don't know if they were originally _meant_ to be that."

"You think maybe they started out as something else?"

"I think that the Institute is full of people who for several reasons want as little exposure to - or contact with - the above-ground world as possible," is the thoughtful answer. "And I think that's been the case for a long time. I also think that they can't possibly have already _had_ the resources to build everything they have now; they would have needed to find more up here, and probably well before the worst of the radiation from the bombs had faded."

Piper considers that. "So, what? The first synths were basically rad-resistant scavengers?"

"Maybe." Blue's lips purse a little, and her gaze turns inwards. "It would have been a good solution to send them rather than risk a team of humans, and if the first synths didn't carry weapons, then maybe those were added because too many already hard-to-produce units were lost to attacks; either from surface survivors, or from mutated creatures." A pause, and a slow breath. "And once that starts, how many steps before you guard the areas you need to search, to provide for your own? Before you start to develop new units who _won't_ be recognized and attacked on sight, but who can infiltrate and spy instead?"

Well. There _is_ a good amount of logic to that idea, which really isn't all that surprising considering who it's coming from. Still... "Are you trying to excuse what the Institute is now?" Piper wonders quietly. "Because of Shaun?"

" _No."_ Firmly, but softly, with a steady, unflinching look that meets her own. "But humans are rarely as simple as black and white. There's always going to be a thousand shades of gray, and our most base instinct is to do what we feel is best for ourselves based on the information available at that point in time. What if the information we have isn't valid?"

Piper grunts. "Then someone becomes the boogeyman to someone else."

"Mm." Blue's mouth tugs into a small, wry smile. "So everyone hates the Institute because no one knows what their agenda is, and the Institute isn't sharing because they're scared of outside influences. Fearing what we don't understand is a very essential part of the human psyche that goes all the way back to when personal defense was throwing rocks instead of firing bullets, because then – much like now – any stranger was a potential enemy rather than a possible ally."

"That's a depressingly barbaric thought, Blue."

"Yeah." That earns her a sigh, and the brief, resigned closing of Blue's eyes. "But as much as it irks me that we as a species _continue_ to succumb to such primal bullshit, it's still something we have to take into account." Now, she frowns deeper. "And it means that we aren't safe here, because when the Brotherhood figures out my relation to the Institute – and they will eventually – I'm going to become a target." Her hand clenches faintly where it rests on Piper's side. "And you, by association."

"I know." She has to smile a little as the startled blink. "Blue, I told you; I'd follow you into hell. Don't you think I knew the risks before we even came here?"

"Well... no." The skin around Blue's eyes tense, and her head ducks as much as it can considering the pillow beneath it. "It only hit _me_ when I was talking to Maxson earlier." The sigh she releases turns into a groan, and she rolls onto her back; lips pulling into a half-snarl and eyes squeezing shut while she rubs at her forehead with the palm of her hand. "I'm an idiot."

"Stop that." Piper pinches her. "You're nothing of the sort, and you know it. You just have-"

"Moronic tendencies?"

Another pinch. "Blind spots," Piper corrects firmly, and lifts herself onto one elbow. "So you take a little longer to catch on when it comes to people's intentions. That really isn't _that_ surprising after spending over two centuries on ice; I doubt that part of your brain has defrosted yet."

Blue snorts; still staying in the same position, though now with one arm over her eyes. "That part of my brain's always been that way," she mutters. "If it hasn't caught up by now, it isn't going to. I've never been able to read people."

"Blue?" Piper catches the forearm slung over those eyes and tugs it away. "You do realize that you pretty much read me like an open book 24/7, right?"

"Mmph." One eye pops open to regard her. "Most of the time, yes. But that's _you_. I know how to read you because I've had the time to _learn_." Blue smiles a little when Piper frowns. "That, for instance, probably means that you're trying to figure out what the hell I'm talking about; the skin at the corners of your eyes crinkle more when you're mad." Piper snorts and feels a smile tug at her mouth. "That means that you're amused." Blue translates, and pokes at her cheek with a fingertip. "Genuinely. If it was sarcastic, your lips would pull to the other side."

Now, Piper blanks her expression completely and ducks her head forward; simply _looking_ at her from under her lashes with her best, dead-pan expression.

Blue quirks an eyebrow in response. "Let me guess: 'Smartass'?"

"Dork." Piper lightly bumps their foreheads together before lifting herself back up. "What are you, author of the _Piper Wright Encyclopedia?"_

"No," Blue admits, and then smirks. "Not yet."

There really should be some sort of rule against being this almost-insufferably cute, Piper thinks, and spends several moments just watching her peacefully; taking in the familiar arch of Blue's cheekbones, the gentle curve of her nose and the slight, natural pout to her lips. She's studied that face more times than she can count, but the view never seems to get old.

"That one's my favorite," Blue tells her.

"Hm?"

"The expression you're wearing right now." One warm hand comes up to cup her cheek, and Piper can feel the faint callouses on the tips of those fingers as they move slowly – almost curiously – over the side of her face. "It's... soft. Your eyes are much more relaxed." A gentle thumb traces the skin just below her lashes. "It looks like you're smiling on the inside." Blue frowns a little, then, and cants her head. "What does it mean?"

Oh, boy. For once, Piper settles on discretion; electing to dodge the question and instead duck her head enough to catch those lips with her own. Blue doesn't seem to mind; shifting her hand to curl her fingers around the back of Piper's neck so she can pull her further in, and making a soft, little sound low in her throat when the kiss deepens.

 _God_ , but she could drown in this, some corner of Piper's mind thrills when she presses closer. Not _too_ close, because she gets it now; they're not safe and can't _relax_ here; can't be as thoroughly distracted as they very easily make each other, so they both need to remember to keep the contact light and their wits about them. That, however, is much more easily said than done when Blue curls an arm around her back and tugs until they're touching all the way down the length of their bodies, because _Jesus_ , there is not a single cell in Piper's blood that isn't tingling in reaction.

But she manages – somehow - and gives Blue's lower lip a gentle bite that earns her a huffed breath when she pulls back.

"That's for me to know and you to find out," she teases, and then has to bite the inside of her cheek _hard_ when Blue scowls in a way that makes her look mostly like a little kid being denied a piece of candy. "What?" Somehow, Piper manages to not laugh. "Think of it as a puzzle. And don't you dare try to deny how much you like those."

"Grmph." Blue sighs, but acquiesces with a minute nod. "Okay." Her fingers give the back of Piper's neck a little scratch. "Wanna get out of here in the morning?"

Hell yes. "Right behind you, Blue."


	24. Moment 024: Tips and Tricks

* * *

Agent 'Charmer'. Blue picked that name because the sheer inaccuracy of it amuses her, but Piper finds it funny for the exact opposite reason; because Blue actually _is_ incredibly charming when she's comfortable enough to let herself relax. When she isn't, however – which is most of the time around other people – then... well, then she emotes less than Glory and is basically all stone-faced business.

Piper isn't sure if she herself would want to join the Railroad, though it's at least a far more attractive notion than joining the Brotherhood. Committing to any group is really only an idea for her to toy with during idle moments, though, since doing just that would probably get her assigned to something other than watching Blue's back. So no, but she can still tinker with what code name she would pick, and decides – after firing a shot down the length of the underground range – that 'Bullseye' probably wouldn't be it. She hit the target, of course, but the shot veered several inches from the center even though she _knows_ she had it lined up right.

Roaches. Piper slips the clip out and sets it aside on an old crate before turning her pistol this way and that; scrutinizing it and wondering if it's the weapon or just her. She can't spot anything amiss, but fortunately, her best friend is very mechanically inclined, not to mention the finest, surest shot Piper has ever encountered.

"Blue?" She half-turns until she can see her; sitting on the edge of a couch across from Drummer Boy whom she's quietly talking to - for once in her jumpsuit but _not_ her armor - and waits for those eyes to track to hers. "Can I borrow you for a sec?"

Blue cocks her head at Drummer Boy, who holds up an easy hand before turning his attention to a stack of papers, and then rises in a smooth shifting of slender muscle that's frankly a pleasure to watch, though Piper will admit to some amount of bias.

Privately, at least.

"What's up?" comes the question when Blue has crossed the space between them, and now studies her with a patient sort of curiosity.

"Take a look at this thing, please?" Piper asks, and holds out the pistol. "I keep missing, and I can't figure out if it's this or me."

Blue takes it and turns it over in her hands much like Piper did; her eyes narrowed in a slight squint and the tips of her fingers slipping over the metal in what Piper guesses is a search for something that doesn't line up right. She grunts a little, after a minute or so, and shakes her head before tuning her gaze back on Piper. "Nothing obvious," she says, and quirks an eyebrow. "Mind if I give it a try?"

"Be my guest." Piper waves a hand in a 'go ahead' type motion and steps back; watching as Blue slips the clip back in with a _snick._

She spends a few moments flexing her fingers around the grip, Piper notes; probably because Blue is a leftie while Piper isn't, and so the surface fits little oddly because the wear on it is from the opposite hand. She aims it easily enough, though – with one hand as apposed to Piper's usual two – and when she fires, the new bullet hole appears neatly in the center of the target at the end of the range, and is widened only a fraction by three more shots.

"Sorry," Blue says when she lowers the pistol and clicks the safety on. "It's you."

"Mmph." Well, she'd at least expected as much. "So what do you do that's so different from me?" she wonders; setting one hand on her hip. "Aside from being a southpaw."

That earns her a wryly warm look, and Blue offers her the pistol back; grip first. "Let's find out," she suggests. "Take a shot."

So Piper lines herself up again, only this time with the faint warmth that is the heat of Blue's body; standing directly behind her and peering over her shoulder. It is, at least, not nearly as distracting as it would have been just a few months ago, and she _does_ manage to hit the target, though still a few inches off-center.

"Hang on," comes the pensive murmur from behind her, and Piper pauses while Blue's fingers fold gently around her upper arms. "Okay. Again."

Obligingly, Piper fires again, and while her shot still veers off, she also hears another one of Blue's soft grunts; this time with the mild satisfaction of a new discovery, rather than the frustration of finding nothing.

"You tense," Blue tells her softly, and tightens her hold on Piper's arms. "Here, right before you fire. It's making your hands jerk, and your shot go off-target. Try to relax."

"I don't suppose I could talk you into moving your hands first?" Piper quips. "It's not like I mind you feeling me up, Blue—" She can actually _feel_ the blush. "-but I'm not into audiences, if you know what I mean."

"Brat," comes the grumble, though Blue's hands still shift onto her shoulders. "I don't even have half a clue what you mean by audiences, but I'm also pretty sure that I don't _want_ to know." Two fingers give the juncture of her neck and shoulder a light, reproving pinch, but there's enough of a smile in Blue's voice that Piper just chuckles. "Now _behave_ and try to relax." Pause, while Piper aims. "Unless you _want_ me to offer a spanking."

This time, she misses the target entirely; completely thrown off by Blue actually _returning the volley_. Frankly, for someone who doesn't recognize a public sex reference when she hears one, she does a damn fine job of flirting back all the same, to the point where Piper forgets all about the shot she fired the minute the pistol goes off, and instead turns her head and just _gawks_.

Blue notices the look, and shrugs. "Fair is fair."


	25. Moment 025: Health and Safety

The biggest difference between the Railroad and the Brotherhood, Piper decides, is in the amount of time she and Blue have to spend looking over their own shoulders. The Brotherhood doesn't know that Blue has been to the Institute – that she can honest-to-God _come and go as she pleases,_ if she's telling the truth – and when they find out, they're probably going to come down on Blue like a ton of bricks and exert all sorts of pressure in order to make her spy for them.

The Railroad knows, obviously, since that was where the chip was decoded in the first place, and while Desdemona has her reservations – which Piper finds fair enough, since she has a few of her own – she seems content to let sleeping mongrels lie as long as no secrets are revealed and Blue agrees to keep an eye out for synths who may have need of their services in the future.

That debate was interesting; the one where the two of them tried – and failed – to determine if a machine could truly become sentient, or if it only appeared as such because of its programming. It was literal hours worth of philosophical back-and-forth between the two of them, because how can one measure as known and yet as unquantifiable an idea as a soul? The discussion never grew heated, but they did both end up with rather impressive headaches, and Piper can still feel hers threatening to return when she dwells on the subject for too long.

But she doesn't really have the time to dive into a topic that heavy right now, anyway. Her and Blue have spent the past long while trekking back and forth; first taking a short, tense trip back to the Prydwen, and then returning to Diamond City so Blue could store that set of power armor outside of Home Plate, which she apparently forked over the caps for at some point. They'd spent the night there – at Publick Occurrences because Blue hasn't had the chance to do anything with the inside of the house – and Piper had gotten to spend some much missed time with Nat while Blue just watched and probably tried to calm herself back down after spending hours in the constricting suit.

" _You really hate wearing those things, don't you?" Piper had asked, when Nat had reluctantly gone to bed and they were alone._

" _Yes." Blue had smiled a little wryly. "But they're useful, and damn if I don't want to at least keep it handy. Once they figure everything out, I doubt I'd get my hands on it again if I left it on the Prydwen."_

It's true that Blue certainly is a lot more at ease when she's just wearing her regular getup of a jumpsuit and – now – her combat armor, even if it provides much less protection overall. Even now, when they're making their way along the coast, there's a peace in her eyes that's a far cry indeed from the shaken, somewhat wild look that had been there for the rest of that night; a peace that doesn't leave even though their route is littered with raiders and mirelurks both.

Blue doesn't enjoy the killing, and Piper knows that. She doesn't enjoy the fighting, either, but there is, Piper thinks, a large part of her that enjoys the _challenge_. It takes a special kind of thinking to survive in the Commonwealth for as long as Blue has with all the trouble she throws herself into; running right up to Coursers and generally dashing off in to danger at the drop of hat with entirely too little concern for her own safety.

Right now, they're making fairly quick work of a group of raiders who mistakenly took them for easy targets, and Piper sighs from her cover behind a trash can when Blue physically charges at the heavily armored, nearest one; smacking the butt of her shotgun across his face and sending him staggering back, then letting off two sharp blasts that drops him completely and diving behind a rusting dumpster only when she loses the cover of the dead man's body.

She's bleeding from several - thankfully small - wounds, Piper notes with another sigh, and simply keeps looking at her until Blue feels it and looks back.

 _'Be. More. Careful'_ , she signs at her, and guesses by the puzzled expression that her agitation is showing even in the movements of her fingers.

 _'Faster this way,'_ Blue signs back, and pauses briefly to set the shotgun down and swap it for her rifle, which she uses to take out a far-off turret that's cheerfully spitting bullets at them. _'I'm fine.'_

Piper curses roundly in the privacy of her own head, and pokes around the edge of her cover to fire several, thankfully now-surer shots that has another raider howling when a bullet pierces his wrist. _'You're no good to anyone dead,'_ she returns; her hands jerking sharply and her jaw clenching. _'And you're gonna end up that way if you don't stop charging in like a suicidal squirrel_.'

Blue lifts her hand again but doesn't move it, and her face looks mostly like she wants to laugh at the mental image Piper just gave her, and yet knows that amusement probably isn't the best response to give. In fact, there are several heartbeats where she seems almost stuck in her own mind; trying and failing to come up with an acceptable answer and honestly looking a little helpless because of it.

So Piper gentles her expression and softens her look, and signs one more word.

_'Please.'_

Blue watches her for a long moment; her lips tightening and her brow furrowing, but finally, her chest moves in a sigh while her hand comes up fully. To _salute_.

Piper chucks a small pebble at her for her cheek, and returns the stuck out tongue.

Incorrigible smartass.


	26. Moment 026: A Royal Mess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for _violence_ now added, because there's some fairly gruesome stuff in this chapter.

The Castle is an impressive sight even with the massive hole where one wall has collapsed, but Piper's awe is admittedly dampened rather severely by the clusters of eggs that start to become visible as the structure grows nearer.

"I friggin' hate mirelurks," she mutters.

"Don't blame you," Preston comments from her right. "Damn things give me the creeps. Even the hatchlings are aggressive as all hell, and that hissing, clicking thing they do makes my skin crawl."

"Preston?" Piper pauses in going over her pistol one more time just because, and gives him a look. "Not helping."

He coughs softly and sends her a halfway-sheepish, apologetic little shrug, and from her left side, she picks up on the low sound of Blue's chuckling.

"And what are you laughing at, little miss ass-over-teakettle-into-the-fray?" Piper reaches out to give her friend's side a pinch, which earns her a hastily muffled, startled sound and a little jump that makes the rest of their ragtag group have to smother their smiles. "No heroics today, Blue, please? We're not talking two or three of these things."

"We're also not talking just the two of us," Blue reminds her gently, and catches her hand. "All you and I have to do is draw the suckers out so these guys can take them down, and if there are finer, more loyal soldiers than the Minutemen, then I haven't found them yet."

It's such a subtle thing, that compliment, and Piper both marvels and wonders if Blue even realizes what she just did; watching from the corner of her eye as backs straighten and chins lift, and hands grip weapons more securely as their followers take their places a few dozen feet from the stone walls; backlit by the sinking, afternoon sun as she and Blue leave them behind and move closer.

But Blue listens to her today, and is considerably more cautious than she has been in the past. Instead of running in guns blazing, she finds a perch halfway up the right side of the hole in the wall, and kneels there with her rifle while Piper takes up a similar position on the opposite side; leaving them out of the line of fire from behind, and hopefully also out of range of those massive claws.

Blue's rifle is still silenced, so it takes several shots and at least three dead mirelurks before the rest of them figure out what's causing the commotion. When they do, they charge as a group in a cacophony of shrill hissing that makes Piper shiver, and she is very, very glad both to be out of easy reach, and of the now audible shots that join in; both the sharp _pops_ of her own pistol, and the reverberating _bweens_ of the Minutemen's laser rifles. It drowns out that infernal hissing and clicking, though it does very little to hide the spurts of sickly, semi-opaque greenish liquid that shoots out of the creatures' wounds.

Gross. But as long as it stays on the ground with the mirelurks and their hatchlings, Piper is at least doing an okay job of swallowing down her bile in spite of the stench of rotten water and irradiated flesh that fills the air the more of them they kill.

It takes maybe twenty minutes before the majority of the mirelurks are dead and they advance into the actual courtyard to clear out the stragglers. The silence is sheer bliss to Piper's sorely tested hearing, and she feels the tension drain from her shoulders when the second gap in the ancient walls allows for a breeze that also manages to blow away the worst of the smell.

"Well." Blue comes up to her side, and pokes at one, dead mirelurk with the toe of her boot; her lazily smoking shotgun resting on her shoulder. "I guess we know what's for dinner."

Piper just looks at her; half-sick and half-horrified. "Please don't mention food again for at least another hour."

"Sorry." A familiar hand comes up to rub gently at the back of her neck. "You do look a little green around the, um..." A pause and a glance around them, followed by a twitch of Blue's eyebrows and purse of her lips. "Gills."

Oh, hardy-har-har. "Urngh." Piper slumps against the sturdy frame with a groan, and thumps her palm against a solid shoulder. "I'm gonna hurt you."

Blue's chuckle rumbles softly under her ear while a warm hand strokes her back, and they stay like that for several heartbeats, in a peace only broken by the occasional sound of a firing laser rifle as their Minutemen escorts take it upon themselves to eliminate the last few nests.

"Piper?" Blue's voice is low and right next to her ear; close enough that she can feel the slow rush of her breathing. "Did this seem... a little too easy to you?"

"Easy?" She straightens enough to look at her and see the thoughtful little furrow in her brow, and hears the faint sound of returning footsteps and the Minutemen re-enter the courtyard. "Wow, Blue. Way to downplay the effort."

"No, that's n-" Blue sighs and rubs at her own temple. "I mean that if this could be done with five people and some guns, then why wasn't it done years-"

The ground shakes.

"-ago." The last word is a bare breath as Blue's lungs empty themselves in a rush of air, and while Piper hasn't had the chance to turn, the fact that Blue's entire face goes _ashen-fucking-white_ in the blink of an eye is probably a good indicator that she really doesn't _want_ to. "EVERYONE INSIDE, NOW!"

Piper doesn't fight the strong grip on the back of her jacket, or the sharp yank that pulls her towards thick, stone walls and the open doorway in one section of them. She has never in her life heard actual _panic_ in Blue's voice when it's at her General-volume, so she really doesn't need to look over her shoulder as she runs to know that whatever it is, it's bad on a whole new level.

But she _does_ look, of course; over her own shoulder and past the sprinting Minutemen hot on their heels, and almost trips over her own feet in a mixture of shock and bone-chilling _horror,_ because that... _thing_ is dwarfing even the massive walls of the castle.

She has to catch herself against a rough corner when they clear the door because Preston is yelling something, and Blue _shoves_ her clear of the opening a split-second before a massive spray of what mostly smells like bile rushes in and only narrowly misses them as everyone dives for cover.

"Blue!" Her pistol is in her hands for all the good it'll do against something that size, and her eyes are stinging as the stinking rush turns into a thick mist.

"I'm fine!" The voice is a little shriller than normal but still familiar, and works wonders on pushing down the panic that's rising thick in her throat. "For fuck's sake, _stay down!_ That shit is pure acid and you do _not_ want a direct hit!"

Chaos. Yells in different voices are echoing off the stone and making her ears ring. There are shots coming from rifles and shotguns and pistols and the most horrific screeching from outside, and she hears Blue roar a sharp curse just when the mist clears enough for her to see a claw the size of her own body closing around the double barrel of Blue's shotgun.

Blue dodges the second spray and curses again as she wrestles her gun free and raises it. And that's when the claw – caught in the spray and dripping from it – comes up and catches her across the face.

Everything slows to a crawl. The blow is enough to send Blue flying across the room with an odd, red tinge creeping in around everything Piper sees. Blue is screaming even before she leaves the ground; her skin sizzling and bubbling, and that chilling howl only stilling briefly when she hits the wall with a sodden thump and tumbles to the floor. She's clawing at her face and screaming again even as Preston yells and dives for her and catches her wrists, and her shotgun is sliding across the floor to bump against Piper's feet.

Red. Nothing but the purest, fiercest, _angriest_ blood-red for she doesn't even know how long, but when it fades, she's straddling Blue's thrashing form and has only the vaguest memory of yelling for water and someone to help hold her down, but there's a can of the clean stuff in her hand and Preston is sitting on Blue's arms and keeping her head pinned in place.

"Cloth." Weirdly, the ruckus just fades until the only things she hears are the sounds originating within two feet; such as the tearing of fabric and Preston's shaky breathing when he holds a thick fold of ripped jacket over Blue's eyes. "Keep that down tight; don't let the runoff in there." She doesn't even hear Blue's agonized screaming; just sees her lips twist and her mouth open, and the way her skin and flesh is peeling and going from pink to red to yellow to black; singing and burning until the sick white of the bone beneath pokes through and Piper can see her teeth through the growing hole in her cheek.

She pours and Blue thrashes harder; sobbing brokenly into the air because while the acid hurts, having it rinsed off probably hurts more. The stench of burning flesh is thick and hot, but Piper forces down the horror and the fear and the overwhelming urge to vomit because there really isn't time for either of those.

"Somebody get me a stimpak." Her voice sounds chillingly calm to her own ears, but everything is instinct right now. "Preston, turn her head. I don't want her swallowing this stuff." He obeys, and the sodden water runs over or out of the hole in Blue's face; equal parts black and pink and orange, and altogether a nightmarish combination of sights and sounds and smells that will probably haunt her for years.

Later for that.

There are two stimpaks by her knee when the third can is empty and Blue's harsh, stuttering sobs have become soft, agonized cries, and Piper secures one of them with a upwards glance at the ashen, shaken faces of the two young Minutemen whose names she has yet to learn.

"You." She points to one of them. "Go one to one end of the wall and shoot. Get that things attention and when you have it, run back down and move up somewhere else. Keep it busy." He scrambles, and Piper turns to the second. "You guard the door. If a single hatchling makes it in here, I will personally shove it up your ass." He goggles at her and almost trips over himself in his effort to get up, salute and secure his rifle all at once, and Piper only spares a half-glance at the massive, severed claw that he kicks out of his way before both just fade from her focus.

"Hey." Carefully, she nudges Preston's hands back and secures the cloth; vaguely aware of the fact that she's silently crying herself as she gently wipes the last of the water from around Blue's eyes, but not really caring because at least it's clearing the effects of the acid mist away. "Blue? Look at me."

Blue does, and although those eyes are reddened from tears and acid mist; blinking and wide and wild with shock and fear, they're still beautiful.

"I need you to listen to me, okay?" Gently, Piper cups the undamaged side of her face, and is glad that it's the left side so she can do that and handle the stimpak at the same time. "We can fix this- shh, shh, it's okay." Her thumb stokes tenderly over the whole cheek, and while Blue whimpers brokenly into the air and even Preston sounds like he's crying, Piper pushes on. "This is fixable, I promise. But I need you to hold very, very still because if the stimpak is going to take the effect that it needs to, I have to hit something in your throat, and I really don't want to miss."

"Urtdsh," Blue breathes; her speech severely impaired by the gaping hole in her cheek and her eyes wide and pleading.

"I know," Piper whispers, and fishes a crumpled pack of gumdrops from her pocket and smooths it out because beggars can't be choosers. "I know it hurts, and I'm sorry, but I need to put this in your mouth, okay? You have to hold this against your cheek for me so the hole has something to regenerate over and nothing goes inwards." Blue gives a soft grunt low in her throat, and Piper finds a smile somewhere. "Those medical journals you keep digging out are biting you in the butt now, missy."

There's a rush of air from Blue's nose that's roughly equal parts fear and laughter, but she opens her mouth with a wince and a whimper, and Piper gingerly slips the folded paper inside and settles it between Blue's cheek and teeth; pulling back enough to check that the hole is fully covered. "Okay." She pushes gently at Blue's chin with two fingers until her mouth shuts again. "Swallow twice for me, then hold that paper where it is with your tongue and _don't breathe_ until I tell you to. Alright?"

Piper prods at Blue's throat as it bobs one, twice, and waits for her jaw to shift subtly and her ribs to expand in a long breath. Then she prays and inserts the needle as gently as she can; pushing so, so carefully until there's the tiniest of gives that means that she's hit an artery. Then she injects – also slowly – and only breathes when the broken flesh starts turning pink a bare heartbeat later because that means that she hit the right one; the one that carries blood _into_ the head rather than away from it, and is now bringing the healing serum of the stimpak right to where Blue needs it the most.

"Okay." She carefully retracts the needle again, and sets the empty stimpak aside. "Breathe, Blue. When you're ready, two more swallows and another deep breath, okay? I'm gonna give you two of these just to be sure."

"Mmf." Blue breathes, and her eyes are going hazy because the stimpak is also a very effective painkiller that works more like an anesthetic when so much of it reaches the brain. But her flesh is slowly knitting back together and that's really all Piper cares about. "Befrm mak 'e faf."

"Conking out on me, are you?" Piper teases shakily, but secures the second stimpak all the same. "Lazybones. Leave all the heavy lifting to me, why dontcha."

There's another rush of breath that sounds more like laughter this time. "Fowwy," Blue mumbles, and blinks sluggishly even as she –again – swallows twice; then takes in a long breath and closes her eyes.

She doesn't open them again even after the second injection is done, but she must feel the needle leave her skin, because it's only then that she starts breathing again; slow and steady so incredibly reassuring that Piper can't even find the words for it.

The holes are closing, Piper notes. Not with skin – not yet – but the stimpaks are working their magic, and there is pink, healthy flesh slowly building back up to hide paper and bone both, so it's really only a matter of time and a smidge of luck before Blue's face won't show even the barest of signs of her ordeal. So Piper climbs off of her, and leans back against the nearby wall and breathes easily for the first time in what feels like years. "Oh, my god."

"Miss Piper." Preston's voice is low and rough, and he wipes at his wet face before tearing off another bit of his jacket and using it to clean the few drops of blood from Blue's neck. "That was the damnedest thing I've ever seen. Well done."

"Ungh." Piper rubs at her forehead; everything crashing down on her and sending her into complete, mental and physical exhaustion from one breath to the next. "Something, something, mother of invention." She smiles tiredly at Preston's chuckle, and moves her head with a series of cracks and pops before taking a long, slow breath as the sounds of occasional shots and screeching from the outside now start to filter back in. "Is there a bed around here we can put her into? With a door that closes?"

"Should be," Preston agrees. "Want me to carry her?"

"Please." She couldn't lift Blue's heavier frame on a good day, and certainly not now where it feels like her legs will barely support her own weight. So really, rejecting Preston's offer would just be stupid, and Piper follows him down the hall on little more than sheer cussedness. She's barely even aware of dropping into the wide, dusty bed next to Blue's unconscious form; trusting him to take care of everything else as she passes out.


	27. Moment 027: Healing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if I _need_ to add a warning for this chapter, but better safe than sorry, so: Piper freaks because she thinks that she pushes too far sexually, but Blue sets her straight - so to speak - soon enough. We also spend a little time on Piper's canon insecurities, which show most strongly at her final romance option.

When Piper wakes, it's with a gasp; cruel images of claws and monsters and screaming dancing at the edges of her mind in direct contrast to the solid hold around her back and the familiar scent filling her nose.

"It's okay," Blue whispers against the top of her head; rocking her gently and only pulling her in tighter when Piper shivers. "We're fine. It's over. We're okay."

Everything is fuzzy, and the sharp shift from dreams to reality makes her feel like she's swimming through mud; pushing past the lingering shadows and breathing in sharp stutters as she tries to convince her pounding heart that it was a dream. Just a dream. Against the odds, they're both fine and safe inside ancient walls; resting in the flickering light of a single lantern to the peaceful sound of the sea outside and the gentle push and pull of Blue's breathing next to her ear.

"Ungh." Piper slumps and breathes and loosens her death grip on the warm body next to her own, and feels entirely too exhausted for someone who just woke up. "Shit."

"Pretty much," comes the wry murmur, and Piper stares at the bruising that stretches over the skin in front of her eyes; wondering distractedly at its cause until she remembers the stimpaks and where she used them. "But I think the heavens are done crapping on us for the moment." A pause, and the press of soft lips to her forehead that sends sheer, bone-melting peace spreading through her entire body. "Thank you."

Oh, God. "Anytime," Piper sighs, and doesn't bother to fight the urge to nestle closer because there's a part of her that desperately needs this; needs the closeness that lets her almost feel the rushing of blood in Blue's veins, the strong arms that pull her in and the steady thumping of a heartbeat against her forehead. "Not that I'm in any kind of hurry to repeat the experience."

Blue chuckles, and Piper just closes her eyes and listens to her voice and how normal it sounds. "You and me both," is the quiet admission; one warm hand slowly stroking Piper's back. "We won't have to, anyway; not here. Ding-dong, the queen is dead."

"Queen?"

"Mirelurk queen." Gentle fingers comb through her hair; brushing it back. "The thing we fought. Preston came in... a few hours ago, I guess? They managed to take her down without anyone else getting hurt, even if it took a while."

Piper guesses that that visit also explains the twin, faintly musty blankets that now cover the two of them. "How are you feeling, Blue?"

"My face, you mean?" There's a pause while Piper nods, and then a considering little hum. "Tingly, mostly."

At that, she lifts herself up on one elbow until she can see Blue's face; can make out – if the low light isn't playing tricks on her vision – the distinct tinge of pink and red to the reformed skin, and the tiny line that seems to be the only permanent damage; cleaving her left eyebrow in two just shy of the center of her eye, and adding, Piper muses, a surprisingly rakish look to her appearance, in spite of its cause.

Curiously, she brushes the tips of her fingers over the spot where the hole in Blue's cheek was, but quickly moves her touch away when there's a short, sharp breath. "Sorry. Painful?"

Blue seems to consider that for a moment, and then shakes her head. "No. Really sensitive, though."

"Hm." She traces the edge of where the damage was, this time. "Well, your skin probably hasn't been this new since you were still in the womb." The faint chuckle makes her want to smile and sob all at once. "Don't- please don't scare me like that again. Okay?"

"I'll try." There's something in Blue's eyes that tells her that she's being read like an open book again, and if _she_ is reading correctly in return, the next thing past those lips will probably be an attempt to make light of the situation. "Honestly, Piper." As if on cue, Blue gives her a crooked grin. "I didn't set out this morning to have my face melted half off."

She gets why Blue does that; gets the thing about humor and jokes and how those can make a horrifying memory turn a little lighter and a little easier to deal with. She does it herself, too, but right now, the joke makes her _angry_ because _it isn't funny,_ and the deep red around the edges of her vision matches the splotches of red that still linger on Blue's face and makes something in her head just _snap_.

Piper kisses her because it's either that or _punch something_ – not Blue, though; never – and there is nothing soft or gentle about it. It's hard and fast and deep, with a gasp rushing against her lips and the taste of Blue's breath in her mouth, and she pushes; hands shoving under clothing and nails raking over skin and taking – _claiming_ – while Blue arches against her and mewls into her mouth and Piper just presses her harder into the mattress because dammit, _this is hers_.

It's only when her lips – her _teeth_ – reach the heat of the bruising on Blue's throat that she snaps out of it, and she jerks back so fast that Blue's fingers – wound tightly in her hair – probably end up with several newly removed strands stuck in them. Piper blinks and _stares_ and feel her heart all but stop in her chest, because Blue is flushed and panting and _confused_ , and oh, _God_ , did she really almost just-

"Piper?" Breathless and puzzled and _small_ , and _fuck_ , she really almost did.

Everything goes cold. Even the blood in her veins seems to turn to ice in the span of a single heartbeat, and while her fight or flight instinct usually isn't into running _anywhere_ , this makes her jump back.

Or try to, anyway.

"Whoa!" Blue is shooting up after her in the blink of eye, and there are arms winding around her and pulling her in; strong arms that hold her tightly with the press of Blue's body against her back. "Piper! What the hell?"

She can't pull out of that hold unless Blue lets her, so she doesn't bother trying. "I'm sorry," she breathes instead. "I- you have every right to be angry. I'll leave in the morning. Or now, if you want."

"What?" Definitely puzzled now, since she can almost _hear_ the frown. "Piper, what are you t- all you did was- oh." A long pause where the pieces seem to click into place, and then a long breath that turns into a groan. "Ohhhh my God, you're an idiot." A sigh, and the warmth of Blue's face against her shoulder when her head slumps forward. "Jesus Christ, Piper; we really gotta work on your self-confidence."

Piper officially counts herself as utterly befuddled. "I'm sorry?"

Blue grumbles something that mostly sounds like 'you damn well should be', and blows out a breath. "Piper." Her voice gentles, and the hold around her does the same. "You didn't do a single thing that I didn't want or enjoy. Okay?" Silence, for several moments, and then a soft grunt. "Don't believe me, huh?" Blue sounds more sad than anything else, but then she sighs and tightens her hold again until the arms around Piper's middle might as well be cast from iron. "Alright; then try this. Pull free."

Of all the ridiculous... Piper rolls her eyes. "You know I can't."

"Exactly, thank you." Blue gives her a little squeeze. "Because much as I hate to remind you of it, I am just that much stronger than you." There's the gentle press of lips against the curve of her jaw. "So riddle me this: if I can pin you in place when I _want to,_ why wouldn't I be able to push you away if I _had to?"_

That... actually makes a lot of sense, and the sheer _relief_ that courses through her system is enough that Piper is very glad of that secure hold, because it's the only thing keeping her upright when her knees unlock. "Oh, my God." Her head is spinning and her heart pounding about two miles a minute, and the entire room seems to be shifting around her. "I'm an idiot."

"Yes." Dry and decidedly unamused. "We've established that." Blue carefully turns her around, and there are two fingers curling under her chin; lifting her face until she has to look into those eyes "What I don't understand is _why_. Why would you even _think_ that-"

"Because _I_ don't understand why _you_ would," Piper admits quietly, and smiles a little at the frown. "Blue, you're- sweet and loyal and all kinds of amazing and _so_ beautiful, and I just- keep waiting for you to get tired of me because why-" Her voice cracks, and she clears her throat. "Why would someone like you want someone like me?"

Blue's eyes close in eloquent realization, and Piper watches her and waits; waits for the sigh and the giving up, and the inevitable, familiar disappointment when Blue decides like so many others that having a bed-warmer just isn't worth this amount of bother.

What she gets is a kiss. The softest, sweetest kiss she's ever had; light as a summer breeze, with Blue's fingers tracing so, so gently over the side of her face and – when it ends – the touch of a warm forehead against her own and nothing in her view but those very serious eyes.

"You listen to me, Piper Wright, and listen close," Blue tells her; soft, but intent. "You are everything that is good and right in this world. You are my keystone, my sanity, and the one thing that keeps me going in the hell this world has become. There is nothing on this planet that you are not worthy of, and that most definitely includes a half-mad, pre-war relic who gets herself into the most crazy situations because she's a bigger idiot than you, just in different ways. There isn't a soul on this earth that I want with me more than you, and the only way you are _ever_ getting rid of me is if you throw me off a cliff." Pause. "Got me?"

Piper just starts crying.


	28. Moment 028: Busy Days

Blue is quieter than normal over the next few days, and Piper guesses that her encounter with the mirelurk queen isn't quite as dealt with as she'd like everyone to believe.

Well... everyone _other_ than Piper, who of course gets a lot more alone time with 'the General' since they sleep in each other's arms. Everyone else sees the whole; the image that Blue chooses to show them because that sort of vulnerability is something she only gives a window into when you _earn_ it, and it's starting to hit Piper just how telling it is that she is the only one who has.

The daytime seems to be the easiest and hardest for Blue all at once, and Piper thinks that maybe she would be having a simpler time with everything if she'd let herself take a day or two to just _process._ But she won't, and while Blue has admitted to her that she _is_ badly shaken, she has also - a little sheepishly - related that she's frankly too stubborn to bend neck or knee to it. So while they all spent the entire first and second day carving up and taking away the bodies of the mirelurks and their queen, Blue requested that the severed claw – the one that actually struck her – simply be cleaned and left in the hall.

Piper still isn't quite sure if Preston is pulling her leg or not, but he insists that _she_ shot that massive claw off, that day; that she just picked up Blue's shotgun, cocked it and let it rip, but she guesses that it doesn't really matter either way, because the end result stays the same.

She watches Blue start and finish every day by that claw; just crouching by it, in silence, with one hand against its surface. And she gets it. She understands why Blue isn't willing to back off and risk that fear settling in for the long haul; why she refuses to break that new routine even once because 'once is all it takes', even if she also worries that Blue is forcing herself to face that memory too often and too soon.

But Blue asked her to let her try things her way and Blue knows herself best, so Piper is willing to bite her objections back. At least for a little while longer.

The hours in between those morning and evening sessions are better. They're too full for Blue to sink into her thoughts because they're spent on the enormous task of making the castle livable and clear of rubble and other trash, and the Minutemen have a dozen new questions every hour for her to think about and find answers to. Piper, meanwhile, is too busy keeping an eye on Blue to worry about herself, so in the end, the days and their duties do a good job at keeping them both busy.

"Hey." Blue catches her eye when they're working on clearing the debris from one of the massive holes in the outer walls, and holds up a chunk of what looks like one of the original stones. "Are these still made?"

Piper studies her. "What, carved rocks?"

A snort, and a smile. "No, but that's poor phrasing on my part," Blue admits wryly. "Not these exactly, but bricks."

"Well, I don't know." Piper crouches next to her, and takes the stone when it's offered. "I mean, I know what bricks _are_ , but you've probably noticed that actual, new housing around these parts tend towards the timeless fashions of corrugated metal and salvaged wood, right?" The chuckle makes her smile. "I doubt anyone's actually making bricks. Hell, I'm not sure anyone even knows how to."

"Mm." Blue takes the stone back when Piper holds it out, and turns it over in her hands with a pensive look in her eyes. "I do. Or..." She snorts softly. "I know enough that I could probably figure out the rest." Of that, Piper has absolutely no doubt. "But is that really what I should be focusing on? Bricks?"

"Probably not," she allows, and gives Blue's forearm a little squeeze. Much as she'd love to let her find something else to occupy that mind, she also really doesn't want her to spread herself too thin, and that sounds like a major project. "Let's focus on actually getting everyone _into_ a house first, even if it has holes. Okay? Then we can start to think about maybe making bricks and building better ones."

Blue grunts, and sets the piece of stone aside. "Wouldn't it be awesome if I could do everything I wanted to all at once." It's not a question, clearly; more of a wry, very self-aware comment, and Piper chuckles.

"That wouldn't leave a single thing for anyone _else_ to do, Blue. You have to let yourself relax sometimes, so I'm not gonna let you go one-woman workforce, alright?"

 _"Let_ me?"

"Yes." Piper pokes her in the cheek; the left one, since it's the nearest and the right one is still sensitive. "Let you. I'm going to make you take care of yourself if you fight me kicking and screaming. Got it?"

Blue chuckles as she sets a hand on the ground between them, and leans on it enough to let their lips brush. "Yes, Ma'am."


	29. Moment 029: Peaceful Nights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are starting to skirt the edges of the M-rating. Not quite there yet, though.

* * *

The days are for working and – occasionally – for fighting off the few mirelurks who return from wherever mirelurks go to find their nest now very much reclaimed for human use. The nights, however, are theirs alone, and Piper is almost painfully aware of the surroundings they sleep in. A room for _only_ them, with thick, stone walls and a heavy oak door that actually closes fully, a single, small window that only maybe a radroach could get through if it flew, and little to no chance of interruption unless there's an honest-to-God siege.

This is the most privacy and safety that they've ever had, and Piper isn't ashamed to admit – at least to herself - that she's _extremely_ cognizant of what those circumstances could potentially lead to. She doesn't push, though, because what happened that first night - the fact that she just _took_ without even thinking to check if Blue was _okay_ with it - that scared her. _Scares her,_ still, to the point where she can't even make herself curl up in her usual position half-sprawled over Blue; not unless Blue physically pulls her in.

Blue notices, of course, and is having absolutely none of it. It's a hair-fine balance where she seems to just _know_ which lines to toe and which ones to leave alone, and it's humbling and breathtaking and _wonderful_ how she refuses to let Piper withdraw, yet still allows her the space she needs in order to find her footing again.

Piper has never in her life had anyone be so patient; has never felt as _cared for_ as she does when the day is done and there is peace and twosomeness and the only things breaking the silence are two sets of breathing and Blue's soft, repeated whispers of _'It's okay';_ where she's held, but not held _in place_ , and Blue gently leads her back to where they were, physically, step by tiny step.

It's incredible and at the same time also frightening, because to Piper, nothing about this feels like a purely physical thing. It feels like _more_ , and that's dangerous on so many levels because there's still a chance that it's no more than wishful thinking.

But she's wishfully thinking it.

It takes almost two weeks of slow, careful guidance on Blue's part; of nights spent both on innocent cuddling and lazy conversation, and steadily more frequent kisses before Piper is comfortable pressing that close again. Even then – with February sliding into March and the air slowly warming - it doesn't feel right for her to be on top of Blue, but there is something undeniably _safe_ about having Blue's weight on top of her instead; about that living warmth pressing into her, anchoring her, and about the slow rush of Blue's breathing against her mouth, the feather-light brush of a nose against her own and the tickle of hair against her cheeks.

It's intoxicating, how it makes her feel to have those watchful eyes on her; to hold that lovely face in her hands or twine her fingers in silky hair, and slowly realize that Blue really is exactly where she _wants_ to be. That Piper is _allowed_ to touch her like this; to - hesitantly, this time – slip her fingers under the very edges of the light clothing they've found to sleep in, and feel the shifting of subtle, slender muscle under soft skin when Blue breathes.

Every touch is electric, and somewhere very far away, Piper marvels at how easily and how _strongly_ her body reacts to even the gentle, exploratory touches that are tracing over the side of her waist; especially since Blue – by her own admission – has only ever had a single lover in her entire life.

"Remember," comes the low murmur against the skin below her ear. "I have no idea what I'm doing, so feel free to offer pointers."

Pointers _really_ don't seem necessary, so Piper puffs a laugh and tugs at that soft hair until they're breathing into each other's mouths. "If you do any better than this-" There's a slow touch slipping over the top of her hip, and her own fingers can feel the tension in those strong shoulders because Blue _is_ that fraction heavier and therefore holding a portion of her own weight up on one elbow. "- you're going to pretty much set me on fire."

"Yeah?" Softly, on the edges of a purr that she can taste, and Piper curls a hand around Blue's neck and smiles.

"Yeah." Her voice is breathless because that's just what Blue _does_ to her, and she gasps against those soft lips when they claim hers again because _God_ , how could she not? It's slow and deep and _perfect_ , and if she ever thought that sex between the two of them was an _if_ instead of a _when_ , then that theory has now been thoroughly disproved. Blue's hands are _scorching_ against her skin in spite of the relative innocence in where she places them, and when they part enough to breathe, those eyes are lidded and dark and see nothing but her.

"What if I _want_ to set you on fire?" The words are little more than a husky whisper against her cheek, and Piper closes her eyes and bites her lip when that warm mouth finds her jawline and traces it. "How would I go about doing that?"

 _Oh, God_. "Uh..." It's _really_ hard to think with the hot rush of Blue's breathing against the side of her throat. It's even harder to speak, and when those lips find her pulse point, there are several moments where all she can do is push her head back and try to remember how to _breathe_.

"Piper?"

She chuckles a little – mostly at herself – and pulls Blue back down when she lifts up; kissing her again and tasting the contented sigh on her own tongue. "Sorry," she then whispers; tracing a slow caress along Blue's hairline and feeling her lean into the touch. "You're apparently very good at distracting me."

"Hm." A gentle nibble at her lower lip. "And to think I wasn't even trying."

"No, huh?" Piper can't help but smile. "Not even a little?"

"Nope." Blue shakes her head, but the corners of her eyes are crinkling. "No idea what I'm doing, remember?"

"Brat." She brushes a handful of silky hair back because she loves the way it ripples down; shimmering in the low light from the single lantern and falling over her fingers like the finest thread. "Biting."

That makes Blue blink. Twice. "I'm sorry?"

Piper feels her face heat and hopes that the semi-darkness hides it, because yeah, okay, so maybe that answer was a little too abrupt, considering how long it's been since the question. "You, um... asked me. Something."

"I did." Interest now, instead of confusion, and Blue's voice dropping a few notes. "Biting, hm?" Her hand curls where it rests against Piper's side; enough for nails to press lightly against her skin. "Anywhere in particular?"

"No." It really is amazing how much of an effect a simple look from those eyes can have on her. She feels oddly short of breath under that gaze; enough that explaining further is possibly going to be a little tricky. Or maybe she's just looking for an excuse.

Either way, Piper lifts herself up; very aware of how Blue only _barely_ pulls back as she does, and slowly enough that both their faces and bodies brush several times. "It's, um..." She settles herself on one elbow and noses at Blue's chin until her head turns. "It's actually a... very effective thing, with me."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Blue's skin is warm and soft, so she kisses it; first where her jaw curves and then her earlobe, which earns her a short, soft breath. "I don't mean... hard or... well. Just-" Gently, she presses her mouth against a spot on the underside of Blue jaw; lingering for a moment to just inhale her scent, and then carefully catching a fold of skin between her teeth for only a second before releasing it. "- that."

"That," Blue parrots; her voice a bare whisper that doesn't quite drown out the soft shifting of her fingers tightening around a fistful of blanket. Her nose, meanwhile, is brushing against Piper's temple; nudging until they're face to face again and Piper is excruciatingly aware of the heat of her body. "Anywhere?"

"Pretty much." It's almost as if she isn't getting enough air, and somewhere, she wonders if the electricity between them is using up the oxygen. She wants – definitely, dearly and desperately – but she isn't sure if giving in to that want is wise.

Blue is going to figure out what that look means sooner rather than later, and Piper isn't sure if she can keep from using it.

"Hey." The touch to her face seems to come out of nowhere. "Where did you go?"

Nowhere new. "Sorry." Part of her wants to duck away from those eyes, but with how close they are, that really isn't an option. "Blue? Do we have to kee- I mean, I know things got pretty heavy so I'm sor-"

"Stop." A finger against her lips and – when it moves away – a soft kiss and an easy smile. "Don't apologize. There's no rush, and it'll happen when it happens. Okay?"

Just like that. Piper nods, and wants to laugh and cry all at once because she definitely doesn't deserve this amazing woman.


	30. Moment 030: The Long Way Round

Piper isn't sure where they're headed, but that doesn't really bother her because it's not like Blue is keeping her in the dark. She has, after all, admitted point blank that she doesn't know where they're going either; that she has no set destination in mind, and that she has problems thinking one up because there are too many things that she isn't really able to _not_ think about anymore. Things like the Institute, and Shaun, and what he asked of her.

That's understandable, what with how they've left the Castle behind and therefore don't have any of those tasks or distractions. So maybe they wander a little aimlessly for once, but the Commonwealth has plenty of messes to get into and plenty of places to explore, and hiking across the wasteland with Blue is anything but boring.

In fact, it's comfortable. Enough that Piper feels a little guilty about it, because the ease she feels comes from the fact that it isn't safe for them to let themselves get distracted, the way it was back at the Castle. As long as they're out and about, things between them are familiar; not new and thrilling and making her think entirely too hard about what Blue may or may not feel for her, or how the fact that she might feel something beyond friendship could very well be real, and not a product of Piper's imagination.

And yeah, it's kind of cowardly of her, the relief she feels. But Piper was resigned to the fact that what she feels just wasn't going to be returned; had grown secure in their friendship and the affections that came with it, and figured out how to make her peace with how she wasn't going to get anything deeper than that.

But now... now she's seen those _looks_ that Blue gives her, when they're alone and somewhere safe and have the peace to immerse themselves in each other. She has felt the exquisite care in those hands when they touch her, and the gentle determination that brought her back even when she _tried_ to pull away. She knows without a doubt that Blue places her safety and happiness above and beyond that of anyone else, and while she doesn't know _when_ Blue's wedding ring disappeared from her hand, she knows that it has.

Piper isn't used to getting what she wants when it comes to this sort of thing. So the fact that this time it seems like she _will_... that's knocking her for one hell of a loop, and she frankly needs the familiarity of wasteland survival and the battles with whatever they come across, because it lets her adjust and _not think_ enough that she can wrap her head around everything, without the distraction of soft lips and warm skin and lazy smiles.

She does snicker when they've cleared out Saugus Ironworks and have the peace to look around inside. Blue is being so incredibly herself and examining _everything_ , because the fact that brick production is still off the table for a long time yet doesn't mean that she can't check out places – or ways – to make them when the time comes. So right now, all Piper can see of her is her legs from about mid-shin down, because the rest of Blue is completely hidden under some massive... _thing_.

"Don't hit your head," she calls, but focuses on the shelves she's rifling through because she really isn't that concerned. "You're too old for me to kiss your boo-boos better."

There's a long shuffle, and then Blue's head is poking out to let those eyes regard her with a positively _affronted_ look. "There is no such thing as being too old for that," her best friend informs her seriously, and ducks back to whatever it is she's doing before Piper chokes on the laugh she's trying to hold in.

"Dork."

"Yup." Blue's booted feet wiggle unconcernedly, and her voice is echoing a little because the surface she's beneath is metal. "But one who demands boo-boo kissing, so you'd better keep that in mind, papergirl."

"Don't call me that." Piper finds a wooden block – God only knows what it's even doing here – and tosses it at her; watching it bounce off of one boot and Blue's leg twitch before the block is caught between her feet, flicked into the air and toed back in her direction with remarkable accuracy.

"No?" That now thoroughly grimy head is poking out again, and Piper narrows her eyes because she knows that smirk. "How about 'pipsqueak'?"

Piper throws a pencil this time, but Blue hides completely under her cover, and the sound of her laugh makes a smile stretch all the way across Piper's face.

No, she really doesn't deserve this, and what's more, she's probably going to end up screwing it up. But if Blue thinks differently, then Piper is willing to take the risk and give in to the demands of her absurdly acrobatic heart.

In time.


	31. Moment 031: Eye to Eye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have Tevin Campbell (AKA 'Powerline') stuck in my head now. Anyone else?

There's no such thing as a set destination; just a lot of wandering and going off towards whatever catches their eye, which means that they head west from Saugus, then north for a while and then back east, because why not?

As such, they find The Slog only after clearing the super mutants from Breakheart Banks down the road, which – once Blue informs Wiseman of it in her typical, offhand manner - nets them the most excited group of ghouls Piper can ever remember seeing. It also nets them a new settlement to add to the Minutemen's cause as well as a place to spend the night if they're ever in the area, and Piper a whole new set of stories that are happily told while Blue circles the settlement and looks it over. Not that she needs to, really; Piper can tell from no more than a few glances what's needed most: defenses, more water sources, and ideally a generator or two.

The defenses come first; mostly because the noise of creating the larger objects have proven loud enough to draw unwanted attention in the past. Scavenged, better weapons are distributed among the settlers, and Blue fashions a makeshift target by smearing a tato in widening circles across the backrest of a lounger, which she stands up against the rusty fence at the far end of the pool.

Piper plays instructor for that part; calling over a few people at a time so the rest of the duties around the settlement aren't completely ignored. Granted, she's nowhere near Blue's level of marksmanship and doubts that she ever will be, but she's perfectly capable of teaching people to defend themselves.

Blue, meanwhile, plays grease monkey, and Piper is growing steadily more convinced that this is the way in which she is the happiest; up to her elbows in simply _building_ and making things _work_. There isn't a single crease in her brow – though the grease stains grow ever more prevalent – and her overall air as she works is one of complete, contented peace.

At the end of the day, everyone can hit the target even from the other side of the pool, and while there's still plenty of work to do on the machinery they're adding, Piper figures that completing that bit will only take another few days since she'll be pitching in more herself, now that she'll hopefully only be needed on the shooting range for the occasional pointer. She does wonder a little at the large, circular tanks that most of the loungers have been scrambled into, but waits to ask until after sunset, when all the locals have gone to bed and she and Blue are alone outside because the night is pleasantly warm and neither of them are that tired just yet.

"Oh, that was Arlen's idea," Blue tells her; shucking her boots before wading into the pool.

"You're going to catch your death of cold, you goof," Piper calls after her; softly, in deference to the sleeping settlers.

"I'm not the one who's been drooling over the prospect of fresh tarberries all day," comes the deadpan response; Blue pausing when she's hip-deep in the water and looking at her from over one shoulder. "And I'm a dork; not a goof. There's a difference."

Piper rolls her eyes, but waves a hand at her and settles back in the lone, remaining lounger.

"Anyway." The water sloshes softly as Blue starts wading again. "This thing-" she gestures to the pool around her; lit gently by the lamps that sprung to life when the generator was fired up and a wire hooked to a fuse box inside the actual building. "- is their most immediate source of water. They're high enough up that digging down for a water pump is impractical, while hiking back and forth to the river is time-consuming, if doable. But-"

"- the pool is also a considerable source of income due to the tarberries, and therefore not something that should be drained," Piper completes.

"Exactly." Blue sends her a half-grin, and then focuses on collecting some of the berries in question. "And while it rains a lot around here, the pool itself really isn't large enough to pick up the amount of water it'd lose by being an actual water _source."_

"Hm." She watches Blue do her foraging, and decides that she likes the way the low light reflects off the water and plays across her face. "But you want to use it as that anyway."

"The simplest solution is often the best one," is the answer. "So yes; I want to add a purifier and use it, but we're also going to have these tanks-" A wet finger points. "- to collect additional rainwater in, and with a little fiddling, maybe even have them drain into the pool automatically."

"I like it," Piper nods, and waits while Blue surveys the generous handful of berries she's picked – they _are_ a source of income for these people, so no need to get greedy even with permission – and then starts wading back towards the shallow end. "Will it be enough, though?"

"Nn." Blue waggles her head as she walks. "It should, if they're careful and still rely on the pumps they have. Honestly, I'd prefer some sort of drainage system that leads the water from higher up into here, but we can't do that in a few days."

"They can work on that without us."

"Yup." The sloshing turns into the wet squeak of the jumpsuit's legs when Blue climbs clear of the pool, and Piper accepts the handful of berries when it's offered to her. "I'll draw up some plans for them tomorrow."

Piper determinedly turns her gaze to the heavens when Blue starts stripping out of her wet clothes; studying the skies rather than the unconcernedly revealed skin. Mostly, anyway. "Hey, Blue?"

"Mm?"

"Have the stars changed since before the war?"

"I doubt it." She pauses though; peering up into the sky and not really seeming to think about the fact that she's standing there in a bra and a pair of unbuttoned jeans. "I was always taught that their light takes so long to reach us that by the time it does, the sources have actually died out thousands – if not millions – of years ago. There might be one or two missing, but-" A shrug as she turns back to her task and buttons the jeans. "- I wouldn't know the difference. There are a shitload more of them than I remember, though."

Piper glances over when the sleeve of a shirt flutters past the edge of her vision. "New ones?"

"More like newly _visible_ , because of the lack of man-made light." Now dressed, Blue slips into the lounger next to her, and grins. "Hey; you haven't eaten them all yet!"

"I haven't eaten _one_ yet, thank you very much," Piper corrects, and pinches her. "My parents didn't raise me in a raider camp."

Blue snorts and curls an arm around her, and then tugs until Piper is... well, pretty much in her lap.

Piper just looks at her. "Comfortable?"

"Very." Blue misses the droll tone in her voice, though whether it's on purpose or because of those blind spots she has is a toss-up. "Eat the damn things, would you? No need to stand on ceremony on my account."

Technically, she's reclining on politeness in Blue's lap, but... details. "Hey; question."

"On or off the record?"

"Dork." Piper headbutts her gently, and munches a berry. "Do ghouls make you uncomfortable?"

That earns her a puzzled look. "No? Why do you ask?"

"Because you haven't looked any of our new friends in the eye for more than a second since we got here."

"Ah." Both arms curl around her now, and Blue's chin settles on her shoulder. "No. That's not because they- well, maybe it is, but not in that way. Looking people in the eye is... not easy for me. It makes me nervous." Blue shrugs, and the hold around Piper shifts with the motion. "I'm not usually obvious about it because I know a few tricks, like looking here instead." A fingertip taps at the space between her eyebrows. "It's close enough that people can't tell the difference, but I'm used to focusing on the skin of regular humans, so in that way, yes, it throws me off that they're ghouls. But not in the way you mean."

"So you don't look _anyone_ in the eyes."

"No." Blue shakes her head. "Not until I'm comfortable with them. It-" She pauses, and hums a little. "The thing I do instead is something that my father taught me, when I was... probably four or five; I know I'd just started pre-school."

"Hm." Piper scratches the back of her neck lightly, and offers a berry. "So is this when I should ask you what color _my_ eyes are?"

She's joking, but Blue doesn't seem to pick up on it. "When it's sunny, they're green with light brown flecks," she returns; taking the offered berry and chewing it with a considering sound. "If it's overcast or raining, they're more of a nutty sort of brown with green flecks. Right now, in this light... mm, dark brown; like coffee." Blue takes another berry and nibbles at it, and then raises both eyebrows when she glances up. "Piper Wright, are you _blushing?"_

"Hrmfrfphbl." Piper pokes the berry fully into her mouth. "Shut up and eat your tarberries."

Blue snickers, and tarberry-flavored kisses under a clear, wasteland sky becomes another one of Piper's favorite memories.


	32. Moment 032: Semper Fi

They're making their slow, meandering way north; dropping in on known settlements like the Abernathy farm, but not staying anywhere long enough for an overnight visit unless they absolutely have to.

Piper likes it because it leaves them with plenty of solitude, but also because as normal as Blue acts most of the time, there are still moments where she seems to wander off mentally; clearly lost in her own thoughts to the point where Piper has to physically poke her in order to bring her back. She's not sure what worries her more; how Blue is so far gone because she's thinking of returning to the Institute, or the fact that she's probably going to do it and won't be able to bring Piper along with her.

That part, especially, is going to suck, but she's just going to have to bite the bullet and trust Blue to take care of herself and make it back okay. If anyone can, it's her.

Sanctuary is the end-game plan by now, but not a place they're in a rush to reach. Blue tunes her Pip-Boy to Radio Freedom at least a few times a day just to check in, and so far there haven't been any messages for 'the General' that send them scrambling in one direction or another, though what little music the Minutemen play have become a fairly steady soundtrack because Blue has started whistling the tunes even when the radio isn't playing.

They're about a day's walk from Sanctuary right now, and therefore in an area that both of them know to be outright peaceful compared to more southern parts of the Commonwealth. For that reason, camping out isn't nearly as dangerous as it would be elsewhere even with the lack of buildings to seek shelter in, and they're maybe being a little less careful than they really should, but Blue's hearing – heck, her _nose_ \- should warn them well in advance if something nasty comes along.

Somewhere a little off the path – they're taking a lot of those detours and Piper thinks that maybe Blue is putting off _reaching_ Sanctuary because she has decided to actually leave when they get there – they spot a large, metal structure; one that turns out to be overnight-slash-off-season storage for some massive vehicles who probably looked really impressive back when they were actually functioning. There's a little shed tucked up against the side of the metal, and they spend some time rooting around in there and digging out adhesives and oils and other sundries that are always in demand, and rarely easy to find.

The actual hall yields several useful items as well, and Piper spends a long moment just looking around and marveling at the technology that people used to have, that they could build this massive thing from _metal_ and have what looks like a solid steel loft at least twice her height up. Granted, the section furthest from the stairs leading up there is removed from the rest by a very wide break, but what can you really expect after a nuclear bomb and a few hundred years of no maintenance, right?

"Think we've got everything?" she asks when the sunlight is just barely starting to redden, and leans against the rusting hulk of what Blue tells her used to be a 'combine harvester'.

"Everything we can carry, yes." Blue grins a little and picks her heavier weapons up from where she's set them down for ease of movement; settling the rifle over her back first – that doesn't need using near as often – and then slinging the shotgun over her shoulder.

Going by the loud _dwonnng_ that is the butt of the shotgun hitting the corrugated metal wall behind her, the motion is just a little too wide, and Piper feels her breathing catch as they stare at each other, because as both of them know, loud noises tend to attract attention.

"Shit," Blue mutters.

Piper nods, because going very silent after unintentionally being very loud seems to be a fairly average instinct in most humans; probably because it works _sometimes._

She hopes this time is one of them. "I'm... thinking we should probably-" She watches Blue's nostrils flare and eyes close even before she finishes speaking, and feels her stomach drop. "-no, huh?"

Blue shakes her head, and shifts her shotgun from her back and into her hands in eloquent explanation.

 _Fuck_. Piper chews on her lip and points to the side door in question; forcing herself to breathe slowly when Blue nods and then also points to the large opening at the end of the hall, and follows that by moving her hand as if she's raking claws over her face.

Ferals from both directions, and nothing around them but open land. Awesome.

Piper can't hear anything but the faint whoosh of the wind and the creaking of the old building around them, but she's learned from long habit to trust Blue's hyper-powered senses above and beyond pretty much anything else. So when Blue's face folds into an expression of apology and her fingers twitch into the matching sign, she just gives her shoulder a little pat. Yes, she drew the attention, but she's also the only thing keeping them both from just walking into plain sight.

 _'How many?'_ she asks with her hands, and watches Blue cock her head to better listen; her eyes flitting around the hall and doing that _thing_ again where they blink multiple times in a single second as she sucks in as much information as she possibly can.

The way her breathing suddenly goes very shallow is all the answer Piper needs.

 _'Upstairs,'_ Blue signs; her hand moving with uncommon sharpness. _'Now.'_

Silence stops being a thing when the first feral spots them. A single, gargling growl suddenly becomes way, way more then that, and Piper thunders up the rusty steps because Blue is giving her a level ten look and there really isn't time to argue.

"Other end!" Blue yells – she has to, to be heard over what's now a cacophony of snarling – and races up behind her with enough speed and force to make the metal below them shake. "Across the gap!"

Piper ducks out of the immediate path at the top of the stairs, and lodges a bullet in the shoulder of the first feral to reach the bottom step. "Go!" Another shot makes the feral stagger back. "I've got more shots!"

"And I have the bigger spread!" A hand grabs her shoulder and _pushes_ her towards the gap and the two planks that cross it, and Blue cocks the gun and waits, waits, _waits_ for the walled stairwell to fill. "Run!"

"Blue, I _swear-!"_

"Piper!" There's an ungodly screech and the sharp _crack!_ of a shotgun. "Get your ass over there before I pick you up and _throw you!"_

Shit; _fine_. She'd do it, too – or try her best, at any rate - so Piper curses under her breath as she scrambles for the makeshift bridge, and doesn't know whether to curse some more or be glad of the fact that it isn't nailed down. Upside: easy to remove it and create a wide drop that the ferals can't cross. Downside: easy to knock it off balance and send you plummeting right down below to where they definitely _can_ get to you.

It's the longest twenty feet of her life; the twin planks creaking and bending under her weight and her adrenaline pumping much too hard for balance to be easy, especially with a crowd of ferals snarling below when they notice her, not to mention Blue's repeated swearing and firing behind her where Piper can't even turn to see if she's okay. There's more than just a couple of close shaves, too, but survival instinct is a wonderful thing and gets her safely across to the other end of the loft.

"Blue!" She spins in place the second she's off the bridge, and drops one charging feral with a desperately-aimed shot while Blue curses, backs up and reloads all at once. "Come on!"

 _Fastest fingers in the Commonwealth_. Preston's comment seems like ages ago, and Piper watches and keeps firing as those eyes cut to her while the shells are slipped into place, and then return to the ferals clamoring up the stairs.

Two more blasts echo off the walls, and then Blue is running; the shotgun all but _thrown_ into place on her back as she uses the brief respite to race across the loft, and Piper shoves her pistol away, curls a hand around a steel pillar and reaches the other out for her while the ferals re-group and start towards them.

The makeshift bridge slips the second Blue's foot touches it, and Piper stomps for her end and _misses_ and curses herself to the Nth circle of _hell_ because _why didn't she think of doing that earlier_ , and there's a single second that goes on forever – of two sets of wide eyes and Piper's heart just _not beating at all_ – when they both realize what's happening. Blue's jaw clenches and her legs set against a surface that's already dropping, and then she leaps while Piper surges forward and somehow – _somehow_ – her fingers manage to curl around Blue's elbow.

And gravity sets in.

"Holy-!" Piper hits the floor with enough force to knock the wind out of her, and curls her legs frantically around the pillar she was grabbing seconds ago when Blue's weight threatens to send her toppling over the edge. Her fingers tighten desperately on the smooth fabric of the jumpsuit as it slips and slides, but catch – thank _God_ – on the edge of Blue's Pip-Boy. And hold.

_Breathe, Piper._

"How the fuck is a skinny thing like you this heavy?!" she yells over the triumphant snarling from below, and if her voice is shaking then neither of them have the time to notice.

"Muscle is denser!" Perfectly, scientifically factual, and if Piper hadn't been scared so deep down that her soul was shaking and the reply hadn't been so tense and testy, she probably would have laughed. As it is, she's too busy trying to convince her body to _pull_ or at least _hold the fuck on_ because something other than Blue's weight – something that she can't see because it feels like it's directly below her - is _pulling in the other direction._

That, she guesses because Blue is being pulled at such an angle that can't Piper even _see_ anything beyond her shoulder, is probably the most pertinent cause of Blue's pistol going off. Even if sounds like the shots are hitting nothing but either the metal walls or the dirt-covered floor.

"Jesus, Blue! What happened to being a crack shot?!"

"The 'crack shot's' regular aiming hand is a little busy at the moment!" The fingers just below her face – the ones attached to the arm _she's holding on to_ \- wiggle for emphasis, and oh, yeah, that's her left hand and... actually a very good point.

"Help me get you up, then!"

"Soon as this thing lets go of my foot, I'll be right there with you!" There's a _tug_ that makes her shoulders burn when Blue rears back with her free leg – her foot just barely moves into Piper's line of sight - and kicks out. "Get _off_ me, you stinky sonofabitch!"

"Blue!" The jolt is almost – _almost_ – enough to make her hold slip, and her voice is shrill and echoing off the walls. "If you make me drop you, I'll kill you myself!"

Blue's backswing has enough momentum to pull her into sight; the crowd of ferals shifting and shuffling to follow and _oh God, there's so many of them_. More coming, too, with the ones who followed them upstairs now charging back down to join the others, and Piper sees the one that becomes the new high for the things in this world that she hates the most: that _one fucking feral_ who landed a lucky grab, and now snarls and _pulls_ and glares right up at her while the others clamor around it and grab for the other leg and actually start _climbing up Blue's body_.

"Piper..." Those eyes – those clear, bright, _beautiful_ eyes – on hers, now; for once with a look that makes her stomach turn, because _damn her_ , she _knows_ that mind and how it works, and knows exactly what Blue is thinking without her even saying another word.

The logical solution. Because Blue places Piper's safety over her own and always has.

 _Let go_.

" _No."_ From her shrillest, highest pitch to her lowest, deepest growl in a single second, and their eyes lock and fence; two powerful wills facing off with neither willing to bend.

Not her. Not Blue. Not while there is breath in her body.

"I swear..." Very softly, very intensely. "I will jump right after you."

It's cruel to do that; to pull on the strings between them and use Blue's care for her against her, and Piper knows that. It's also the most ludicrous possible claim to make, because there will be no one to tell the story, or to take care of Nat. No one to even find them, possibly for years. Just two more bonepiles in the wasteland.

But she means it. And it works.

"Stubborn, _fucking_..." Blue is _pissed_ and Piper has never in her life been so glad to see that formidable anger directed at her. "Fine!" There's a _click_ somewhere in those eyes – the steel trap of that mind snapping shut around an idea because it _has to_ \- and Blue's free hand reaches for her belt while her legs now grab for the feral that's climbed the highest; pulls it right up into her face while Piper's arms feel like they're about to pop out of their sockets from the weight. The stench must be particularly offensive to Blue's sensitive nose from this close, because her head jerks back while her face just _scrunches_.

"Brush your fucking teeth!" she roars, and then shoves a grenade into the feral's snarling mouth and slams it stuck with a thrust of her palm and the dry crackle of snapping incisors. "Piper, PULL!" A solid punch right between the eyes where Piper _swears_ that she hears bones break, and then – when the feral (stunned or dead; she cant tell) drops and sets off a domino effect and Piper _pulls with all her might_ – a flicker of motion so fast that it's almost invisible; a single finger hooking in the grenade's pin and yanking it out.

Freed by the tumble and the resulting confusion, Blue grabs the edge and pulls herself up and over in a move that Piper knows even the finest, fittest of Diamond City's guards wouldn't be able to copy. Then she _glares_ , and grabs, and pulls.

" _Move!"_

They move; stumbling across the metal floor to the end of the building and the stacks of wooden crates; Piper so stunned that she's barely breathing and Blue cursing a... well, a _blue streak_ all the way. She's shoved behind the crates with Blue diving on top of her – right, the floor is thicker – and it gets very dark very fast when the lid of one crate is grabbed and yanked; Blue curling around her and both of them praying that their meager shelter is enough.

The explosion shakes the entire building, and there must be something about those decibels that her hearing doesn't like, because it deafens her this time, too, for a while.

Piper doesn't care. She is literally surrounded on all sides by living, breathing, heartpounding vault dweller to the point where she can _feel_ Blue's heartbeat where her forehead presses against her friend's chest, and is, she manages to determine, little more than a single thought from breaking down in hysterics from sheer relief.

She's here. She's safe. She's alive.

So let her be angry, if that's what it takes.

"Thank you," she whispers into the dusty fabric of the jumpsuit; not knowing if it's quiet around them or not, but aware that those finely tuned ears would probably hear her even if a new nuke was dropping five feet away. "For all the mundanely impossible things you do that keep you here. With me." She doesn't hear the sigh, but she _feels_ it; the slow expanding of ribs, the long rush of warmth, and finally the gentle, lingering press of lips against the top of her head.

Piper breathes her in and feels the touch of a hand against the back of her neck and - because Blue knows _everything,_ so of course she also knows that Piper won't hear her right now - the twitch of fingers in a movement she recognizes.

_'You're welcome.'_

That, as it turns out, is the single thought.


	33. Moment 033: Priorities

_"You're mad at me."_

_"Yes."_

Safe as the end of the loft would have been with the bridge dropped, they elected to leave rather than stay; mostly because the smell of dead ferals is even worse than the stench of ambulatory ones, and if Piper was sick to her stomach from it, she can't even imagine what it was doing to Blue.

The trek from where they were to where they've decided to make camp for the night was, Piper thinks, the most uncomfortable one she can ever remember being on. They're both mad at each other – Blue because of Piper's threat to essentially kill herself if they didn't both get out, and Piper because of the double standard in Blue's self-sacrifice being okay while her own apparently isn't – and so they aren't talking. She could have forced that talk a thousand times, of course, but decided to wait for tempers to simmer so cooler heads can hopefully prevail and prevent a massive argument.

But _God_ , she hates the silence. Not the kind that's always there because Blue _is_ normally a quiet kind of person, but the kind - _this_ kind - where every movement and look feels like she's walking on eggshells; where easy touches have simply _vanished_ , and where there's a wall behind those eyes that mostly makes her think of how scared she was of screwing this thing between them up, and how she might have managed to do just that.

Blue, at least, is still there, no matter how silent and stiff-backed and distant she's being. So even if Piper's guts feel like they're caving in on themselves, that's something.

The worst part about her decision to not push that discussion is that fact that now... well, now she doesn't know how to start it. Every opener seems to turn to ash on her tongue, and leaves her unable to do anything but _sit there_ and glance at Blue – from across the fire, rather than next to her – and Piper pretty much feels like the most useless person in existence because words are her _thing_ so _where are they now?_

Blue doesn't seem to notice her looks, anyway. She's doing what she always does when she's uncomfortable; pulling something from her pack to take apart and put back together, and Piper watches those fingers worry at an old telephone until it's basically broken down into its component molecules; neatly settled on the dusty floor next to Blue's hips with the base parts on the right and the receiver parts on the left.

"There used to be something called a 'walkie-talkie'." Blue's voice is soft, but Piper still almost leaps from her own skin in sheer shock. "Hand-held little device that you'd carry with you. You could press a button and talk into it, and what you said would be carried through what was basically radio waves to whatever other unit was tuned to the same frequency within a certain distance." She's turning what looks like bits of circuitry over in her hands. "They were common enough in my time that children would have simple versions of them as toys, and I honestly always wondered what it would be like if the guy who named those had named everything else, too. Maybe a 'car' would have been a 'drivey-vroom-vroom'."

Piper puffs a laugh and finds a small smile somewhere. "So, what, a gun woulda been a 'shooty-bang'?"

"Maybe." Blue looks up enough for their eyes to meet, and there's a tiny tug at the corner of her mouth. "And I guess a newspaper would've been a ready-argh."

"Argh?"

A chuckle. "To my mind, the main purpose of papers back then was to give people something to get outraged over at the breakfast table. Wakes you up."

"Ah." Piper curls her arms around her own knees, and rests her chin on them. "So Publick Occurrences isn't all that different, huh?"

"Nah." Blue gives a little grin. "You just provide the means for that snorting anger in time for dinner, instead."

Piper sticks out her tongue, and they spend a second or two smiling at each other before Blue sobers.

"Don't do that again," she asks softly. "Please."

Somehow, Piper knows that the topic has moved well on – or back, really – from newspapers. And she mulls the request over before taking a breath. "Blue, it made you think twice and ended up keeping _both_ of us alive," she returns gently. "I won't apologize for that, especially since I've already told you that I'd follow you into hell."

"Mph." Blue's gaze drops back to the components in her hands. "I didn't really think you meant that."

"I figured." Slowly, Piper uncoils herself and shuffles closer; stopping only when she's next to her best friend again and fully under that pensive look. "But I do mean it, and I'm not going lie to you and say that I'm sorry for telling you the truth. I _would_ have jumped right after you, because I am not able or willing to do this without you." Carefully, she curls her fingers around Blue's wrist, and closes her eyes briefly at the faint, sturdy thrum of her pulse. "And I really wasn't gonna just lay up there and... _listen._ You know?"

"... oh." A blink, and a long, slow exhale. "Christ. I didn't even think about that."

"No." Piper rubs her thumb across a patch of soft skin. "You probably didn't. Try to, though, from now on, okay?" She glances up briefly. "Giving up is only ever the simplest way out for one person."

Blue is silent for several heartbeats; her brow furrowed and the tendons in her forearm jumping every now and again under Piper's fingers. "I want you safe," she eventually says; low and soft, without looking up. "I will do whatever it takes to achieve that."

"And I understand that," Piper promises quietly. "I want you safe just as much; to the point where I _will_ take a non-literal sledgehammer to your emotions in order to remind you."

There's another long silence, and then a soft grunt. "I guess that's fair," Blue concedes. "I'd do the same thing."

Piper just leans on her, and feels the achingly familiar weight of a head coming to rest on top of her own.

Storm weathered.


	34. Moment 034; Worry, Worry, Worry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been slow to update lately, so [here's an imgur link](http://imgur.com/a00ceWF) as to why. In related news, getting a full-size screenshot from PS4 to PC without having to dig out a USB is quite possibly the most inefficient procedure EVER.

They reach Sanctuary at about noon on the next day, and as it turns out, Piper was right. Blue admits to wanting to return to the Institute just before they're in sight of the guards, and it's only through sheer stubbornness that Piper bites her tongue and waits until they're alone to talk to her about it.

"Why?"

"I can provide several reasons." Blue is sorting through the various supplies that she's stocked in a trunk by the bed she – they – sleep in; all of them being taken out and then sorted into piles of 'take with' and 'leave behind'. Piper dearly hopes that the larger one is 'leave behind', or Blue won't be able to walk. "One, I want to know what their motives are; just like the Brotherhood and the Railroad. Two, I want to know what their capabilities are; what technology they have available and what they could _make_ available. I could keep going with perfectly valid, logical reasons if you'd prefer, but honestly..." Blue pauses, and sets down what has to be the umpteenth can of purified water before looking up with an oddly beseeching look in her eyes. "I want to try to get to know Shaun. Is that so bad?"

Ouch. Piper sighs, and crouches next to her. "No; it isn't." She picks up a stimpak – God knows where Blue keeps finding these things, but there's at least six dozen of them in this trunk alone – and turns it over in her hands. "I just don't like you going somewhere dangerous when I can't be there to watch your back, so I guess the prospect of you voluntarily returning to the Institute is making me a little-"

"Insane?"

The teasing look is so faint that anyone else would probably miss it. Piper, however, just pokes her. "Concerned," she corrects. "I get nervous when you go off without me, Blue. Somehow, you manage to get yourself into even more trouble than you do _with_ me."

Blue cocks her head, and seems to consider that. "Statistically speaking, unless we take my pre-war life into account, there is nowhere near enough data to base that theory on-"

" _Blue."_

"- but I appreciate the thought." A hand gently captures her own and squeezes it. "Would you even come with me if you could, though? You're terrified of the Institute."

Piper just looks at her. "I'm also terrified of jumping headfirst into a crowd of ferals."

Blue takes a breath and opens her mouth; then frowns and closes it again. "Fair point."

"Thank you." Piper twines their fingers and studies her for a moment; then sighs. "There's no way I can talk you out of this, is there?"

"No." The reply is gentle, though, and those long fingers tighten around her own. "Do you want me to take you back to Diamond City first, at least? Or do you want to stay here?"

"I'll be fine going back on my own." She releases Blue's hand and resignedly starts helping her pack the items she's selected. "I think we've effectively cleared 95% of anything remotely harmful from here to Fort Hagen."

Blue snickers in agreement, and Piper shakes her head with a small smile of her own.

She'll be fine, she tells herself; Blue, that is. If she's managed to not have the Brotherhood out for her hide yet, the Institute should be easy. They, after all, are led by a man who holds if not a son's life-long love for her, then at least an unfamiliar relative's natural curiousity.

Piper has no delusions about how unlikely a genuine parent-child relationship between Blue and Shaun is; at most, they'll probably attain some wary sort of friendship due to the simple fact that they're little more than strangers to each other; not to mention far enough apart in age that Shaun could effectively be Blue's father. On top of that, she knows that to Blue, Shaun _is_ her son. To Shaun, however... at the age he's at now, does he even need a mother? Does he want one? Or is this simply another trick played by the Institute and a man who – for all the qualities that his blood clearly comes with – has had plenty of time to be completely corrupted?

Well. When it comes to turning Piper's admittedly cynical expectations on their head, Blue has pulled stranger things out of her proverbial hat before. So she'll just have to trust Blue to know what she's doing, and hope for everything to turn out alright in the end. Blue tends to have the effect on the world, anyway.

But Piper's guts aren't going to stop churning until she's back in one piece, so staying away from the coffee when she gets home is probably a good idea.


	35. Moment 035: Beneath the Surface

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually wasn't going to add another Blue chapter, but people seem to want to hear from her so sure, I can work something in. :) Please don't hesitate to speculate; your thoughts give me some very useful pointers for what I need to add to the story as we go.
> 
> As of this chapter, Saybia's _The Day After Tomorrow_ is officially my personal theme song for this fic. So give it a listen.

The air smells different in the Institute. It's not bland – there's too many things, people, electronics for that – but it is _different._ Maybe it's due to re-use, or the lack of radiation, or the fact that there are trees here, like the ones she remembers from before. Photosynthesis; leaves absorbing light and converting it into oxygen and glucose. But there's no sun here, so she doesn't know how that would work; decides to poke around and maybe find out.

It feels less wrong here. The grasses and leaves are green and alive the way they should be. It's clean and bright and has streams of running, clear water like how the river around Sanctuary used to look. The air is different because it's much closer to how she remembers it, from before. Clothes are whole and tidy instead of old and torn, the people's faces aren't scarred by danger or aging too soon from the stress of surface survival, and no one is constantly coming to her with questions because everyone already knows how to do what they do, and have the tools for it.

If Piper was here, it would be pretty close to perfect. She tries not to think about _how_ perfect; reminds herself constantly that Piper distrusts this place, and knows that while a lot of that distrust is based in rumor, part of it is also based in fact. And Piper reads people and intentions and everything that goes between the lines better than she ever will.

She misses her. Wishes that she could have brought her, and thinks that she'll bring that up with Shaun when she sees him later because if X6 could relay with the synth version of her son then maybe she can relay in with someone else too, and she's having a hard time sleeping because she's gotten used to Piper's warmth and weight and scent and the sound of her breathing when she sleeps. Her quarters are too quiet, and the single bed feels way too big

Life in the Institute runs on a cycle. There's no natural progression of the day because it's underground, so they don't have the course of the sun and moon to rely on. Instead, the lighting in any non-constantly used facilities dims and brightens in approximation; low in the lateness of Gamma shift, brightening as Alpha shift starts and dimming slowly again when Beta shift comes to a close. People work one shift, usually, but take on extra time for small rewards when the need arises.

She knows that Alpha shift is still hours away, and so pulls the pillow in her arms in tighter and closes her eyes because there isn't much to see with them open, anyway. Closing them also lets her focus; lets her ignore the small, blinking lights on her alarm clock or around the wall in the living space and another thousand little things that distract her because she hasn't gotten used to them, and instead pull to the front of her mind what she _wants_ to think of.

Piper. Her face, her eyes, her smile; the dusting of freckles that crosses from cheek to cheek, the tiny dimple that forms at the right corner of her mouth when she laughs, the warmth in her gaze when their eyes meet, and the way her brow furrows when she's thinking hard about something.

She can almost smell her, if she really thinks about it; that characteristic mix of paper and ink and _safety_ that always manages to calm her when she needs it. Feel her; the smoothness of skin under her hand instead of the surface of the pillow, the incredible softness of lips and the minuscule lines in their surfaces, the warmth of slow breathing and the brush of a nose against her own, and a gentle, familiar hold around her back. She can taste her, too, which is how she fuzzily realizes that she's dreaming just before it takes her fully; sugar and sweetness and sunlight on her tongue, with a smile brushing against her mouth when a phantom touch to her belly makes her shiver.

_Do you want me?_

_Yes._ Fully, hopelessly and dearly. _Always._

But it stops, and though she reaches, Piper moves away and everything shifts until she's sitting on the playground outside her parents' house; looking up at Piper through a child's eyes and seeing an expression that makes everything freeze and hurt and claw at her insides.

_I don't want to play with you anymore. You're weird._

She's crying when she snaps awake; her breathing shaking and painful in her chest and the pillow wet and cold against her face. Just a dream, but the images linger in the darkness and her voice is trembling so hard that it takes several tries before her order of 'lights, one quarter' is recognized by the computer and the shadows recede.

The shower helps, and she lets herself take the extra time because it's early enough that the Gamma crew isn't preparing for bed yet while the Alpha crew also isn't preparing for work. So she stands in the stall and lets the water beat against the top of her head, and stares at the metal and her distorted reflection in it while her hands shake against the tiles.

Can't let that happen. _Won't_. Doesn't know how to make it _not_ happen but doesn't really think that it _will_ but can't _risk it_ because it would be so much worse than those times back then. Losing someone hasn't been this frightening since Nate, but Nate was _always_ different and she learned how to be right around him because he didn't think she was weird. Piper doesn't either, she thinks – knows – but she only really knows how to show Nate and _Piper isn't Nate_ so she's fumbling in the dark and just hoping that she gets it right and doesn't mess up.

Slow. Patient. Small steps. Don't push, because she knows that she always wants more than people are willing to give.

She forces herself to breathe, and purposefully starts going over the upcoming day as she washes.

_Don't be weird._


	36. Moment 036: Normalcy

Being back in Diamond City feels odd to her, this time. Or... odd _er._ Not because of the trip back, though God knows that after all the time she's spent dodging raiders and beasts and whatever else the Commonwealth has to offer, the peace of simply _walking_ with no dangers approaching whatsoever was almost enough to drive her crazy.

The oddness she feels also isn't because of any serious amount of concern for Blue. The rumors that reach the city from Libertalia is enough to convince Piper that her best friend is at least managing to make herself useful to both the Commonwealth _and_ the Institute, judging by the sightings of what was apparently both a Courser and a woman in a very familiar jumpsuit. The rumors, at least, haven't linked the two as working together, though Piper suspects that was exactly what they did.

She can't quite decide if she's more afraid of Blue being publicly linked to the Institute and what that would do to her in the eyes of the people, or of the fact that Blue could potentially find the Institute to be the most logical faction to side with. But it's probably a pretty even split.

"Hellooooo?" The voice makes her jump, but not as much as the poke to her side. "Are you spacing, or trying beat Vadim's record for the fastest way to ruin dinner?"

"Wha-" She looks at her sister, and then at the pan. Which is maybe a little on fire. "Shit."

"Spacing," Nat decides, and watches in silence while Piper curses some more and quickly moves the pan off of the stove. "Everything okay? We're not about to get kicked out or anything, are we?"

Piper slaps a lid over the pan – it's way too big but still does the job – and blows out a breath when the small flames die out. "Nah, kiddo," she then promises. "No more than we normally are."

"'Kay." Her sister eyes her for a moment. "You think maybe I should take over the cooking? Just so you don't burn the house down."

"Nat, you're only-"

"- almost thirteen," is the pointed interruption. "Jeez, sis; who d'ya think feeds me whenever you're gone?"

"Elves." Piper glowers at her, but steps back because Nat has a point. She's growing up, and the best thing Piper can do is _let her_ , even if it sucks. "Tiny little elves in bright green clothing, with candy-cane walkers."

"Uh huh." Nat eyeballs her from her new position in front of the stove. "Think maybe you should go sit down? You sound like you need a dose of something, but I'm not sure what."

Blue, probably, but she doesn't say that. Mostly because Nat is as perceptive as Piper is; something that means that she already suspects if she doesn't know outright, and Piper _really_ isn't in a hurry to have that conversation with her little sister. Yes, Nat is growing up – probably faster each time she's left behind - but realizing that much doesn't mean that Piper has to like it. She'll _try_ to get more used to the idea, but a large part of her desperately wants Nat to stay as she is; safe in Diamond City, and too innocent to realize how dangerous their world truly is.

That's not fair to Nat, and she knows it. Staying home, at least, helps her make some amount of peace with things, and the simple normalcy of spending time with her sister does a good job of distracting her from how much she wishes that Blue was there with them. During the day, anyway.

The nights are different. Nat is sleeping behind her makeshift wall downstairs, and Piper is left to her own thoughts in her own bed, which feels disturbingly large and empty. Without the heat of Blue's body there to share the threadbare covers, it's colder than she can ever remember it being, and she tugs the blanket tightly around herself in an effort to ward off the chill. Her teddy bear – Buttons, because that's what he has for eyes – helps a little; gives her something to curl an arm around and rest her head on even if that something still pales in comparison to the real thing.

He does help a little with the cold, she thinks, and rubs her thumb over his sparse fur while she listens to the low, familiar sounds of a Diamond City night. He's definitely scratchier than the woman he's filling in for, but he's enough to make her think a little less about what Blue is up to and why there have been no new rumors for the past week.

Blue is alright. She has to be, because Piper is still convinced that if something had happened to her, her heart would stop beating to save her the agony of waiting for news that never come and returns that never happen. When she sleeps – however short those periods are - her dreams go from one extreme to the next; from finding herself gray and alone and nothing of Blue to be found no matter how hard she looks, to seeing that familiar frame slip through the door, tasting that smile and feeling those arms around her in a peaceful evening at home where the three of them are a family.

She's not sure which kind is harder to wake up from.


	37. Moment 037: Out of the Mouths of Babes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Props to Kendai over on FFnet for putting an idea in my head and getting this chapter added to the story.
> 
> (For the record, the first part is all my fault. Please don't kill me.)

Okay, so maybe Nat had a point about the printer way back when. Piper glowers at the contraption in question in the pale light of an early spring morning, and wishes for what's already the Nth time _today_ that Blue was here, if only because her best friend has that certain kind of logical mindset where even the most complex machinery just makes sense to her after a simple glance.

Under Blue's knowledgeable eye, the printer would probably be diagnosed and fixed in an hour or less. Under Piper's... well, it's going to take a little longer than that in spite of the experience that _she_ has, but at least disassembling it is fairly old hat at this point. She knows enough to keep both tools and rags at the ready and to place the things she removes in the order that they need to go back in, but getting to the part that she thinks is causing the issue is still an absolute pain in her neck and enough to keep her muttering to herself under her breath.

"Miss Piper?"

 _That_ greeting is enough to tell her that the voice definitely doesn't belong to a Diamond City resident, and she pokes her head out from behind the printer to see Preston Garvey standing just beyond the steps; his ever-present laser rifle slung over one shoulder, and his hat in his hands because he's sweet and old-fashioned like that.

"Hey, Preston." Piper grabs a nearby rag and wipes her hands as she gets to her feet; sending the man a smile. "What can I do for you?"

He climbs the steps but doesn't say anything so Piper studies him instead; notes the tension at the corner of his eyes and mouth, the stiff set to his shoulders, the way his fingers keep playing with the brim of his hat, and the faint tinge of red to his eyes as if he's been crying.

Piper's heart stutters in her chest, because she has only ever seen this man cry for one reason. "Preston?"

He comes to a stop in front of her and removes a pistol from his belt; a familiar one with so many incredibly well-done modifications that Piper knows like it the back of her own hand.

No.

"I'm sorry." Preston's voice is low and soft in spite of the fact that there is no one else to hear him, and he offers the pistol to her as if it was the sole remains of the most important person in her life. "We found her two days ago, I-" He swallows. "It was well too late by then."

"No." Piper shakes her head, and her entire world narrows to that one pistol even as she refuses to take it; stepping back and wrapping her arms around herself. "No. That can't-"

"Piper-"

"No." She covers her ears and keeps backing up until she hits the wall; refusing to believe that Blue is anything but _fine_ because _she always is._ "Just- no."

"Piper." There are hands grabbing her arms now; shaking her head and continuing to _not listen_ while Preston's voice pitches higher and higher and the darkness closes in. "Piper!"

"Piper!"

Her eyes snap open to see Nat's face above her own, and she blinks rapidly; head twisting this way and that as the outside of Publick Occurrences becomes the inside of her bedroom and bright day fades in favor of dark night, with the blanket tangled around her body and her sister essentially straddling her in order to pin her to the mattress. "Wh-" Her heart is pounding so hard against the inside of her ribs that spots are dancing at the edges of her vision. "Preston?"

"No..." Very slowly, and definitely wary. "I'm Nat."

Piper slumps back into the single pillow with a hard exhale, and closes her eyes. "Obviously," she sighs. "But Preston. Did he leave?"

"The Minuteman?" Nat sounds confused, to say the least, but the iron hold she has on Piper's upper arms relaxes. "Whaddya mean 'did he leave'? When was he here?"

A dream then, and the relief is enough to make her eyes burn. "Jesus." She wrests one arm free and feels Nat sit up while she scrubs a hand over her face. "Sorry I woke you."

"Woke me?" The weight atop her shifts, and resettles at her side this time. "Christ, sis; I thought something was attacking you." Nat falls silent while Piper grunts, and then: "Nightmare? About your lady friend?"

Hardly any point in lying. "Yeah." Piper breathes and feels her heart slowly settle back down. "Preston came by. And told me that she was dead."

More silence while Nat – she guesses – considers that. "So when are you gonna tell her you're ass over teakettle for her?"

"Language," Piper mutters, and cracks an eye open. "And 'ass over teakettle'? Really?"

Nat's eyeroll is practically audible. "Fine. In _luuuuv_ , then."

"Brat." Definitely a teenager, but the familiar banter is doing wonders for her state of mind, so Piper doesn't pinch her _hard._ "It's not that easy, kiddo."

"Why the fuck not?"

" _Language_ , Natalie."

"Phhbt." Nat is clearly not impressed. "This from the woman who swears more than a raider in a whor-"

" _Natalie Wright."_

"Urgh." Her sister's weight flops backwards across her midsection. "Fine; I'm sorry. But _why_ is it hard? It was easy enough for fu- friggin' Sheng Kowalski to just up and plant a kiss on _me."_

"Uh huh." Piper ruffles her hair. "And how receptive were you to that, sister dear?" She waits for Nat to grumble. "Exactly. So pardon me for not wanting to walk in Sheng's footsteps."

"I don't _like_ him that way," is the thoroughly offended response; Nat batting her hand away and shifting until her head is pillowed on Piper's shoulder. "And I'm pretty sure you've already kissed her."

Oh, Christ. "Not talking about that with you, sis."

"That means yes," Nat deduces, and Piper groans. "It also means that _she_ kissed back."

Perceptive little shit. Piper wraps an arm around her anyway. "She kissed me, actually."

There's several seconds of thoughtful silence before Nat sighs. "Then I _really_ don't understand why you don't fess up. She _likes you_ , Piper. Duh."

"Yeah, I know she does." She rubs her sister's back slowly, and stares up into the darkness as she thinks about the last time they laid like this and how much smaller that back was at the time. "But I don't think she _loves me_. Not like that. Not yet, at least."

Nat groans, and thumps her in the stomach. _"Piper._ You're making the whole thing way too damn complicated! What's the difference?"

Well, there's a question. "Have you ever liked anyone, Nat?"

"Uh, yes?" Lord, the sass is genetic. "That's how I know. It isn't that big of a deal, sis."

"No." Piper chuckles softly. _"Liking_ isn't 'that big of a deal'. _Loving,_ however, is. It's... like standing in sunlight. It's knowing another person's footsteps and scent and being able to _feel_ them smile at you even when your back is turned. It's a... a pain, right here." She takes Nat's hand, and uses it to tap her own chest. "But a good kind. And here, it's-" She moves their joined hands to her stomach. "- hm. Remember the swings?"

"Yeah." Nat nods against her shoulder. "Tingles?"

"Mmhm." She scratches the space between her sister's shoulders. "All the time, when they're around. When they're not and you're worried, it's like something is winding your insides around a rail."

"Ew."

"The last one? Yeah, pretty much."

It takes a few seconds of peaceful silence before Nat speaks again. "So you love her."

"Yes."

"Hm." More silence. "So what are you gonna do if you not telling her ends up with her meeting someone else?"

That, Piper decides, is a damned good question. "I don't know, Nat." She sighs, and closes her eyes. "I'm hoping it won't, because while I do see your point, I'd also like to be at least a little more sure before I risk scaring her off by pushing too far, too fast."

"If she really did die right now, what would you regret the most?"

Ouch. Piper swallows against a suddenly tight throat and feels Nat nestle further into her side in silent, almost-apology; her point very much made.

Soon, then, rather than 'maybe eventually'. She still isn't sure that outright telling Blue how she feels is wise; at least not yet. Sad experience dictates caution, but she could... _can_ at least try to push, just a little. Small things; tiny nudges towards something deeper, to see what the response is.

Baby steps. But forward ones.

"Piper?" The familiar voice pulls her from her thoughts. "What's the deal with sex?"

Oh, dear God.


	38. Moment 038: Proposals

* * *

Coffee, Piper decides fuzzily, is quite possibly a gift from the heavens. That and silence, since Nat left for school a little while ago and the only sounds in the house are those that filter in from the market outside. When she feels like this it's usually preceded by heavy alcohol consumption _and_ a definite lack of sleep, and she has avoided the few mirrors they have on purpose because she knows that she probably looks like hell. She also really wants a shower, but those are public and she needs to spend a little more time returning to the land of the living before she braves the sunshine that's creeping in through the odd, tiny holes in the walls.

So of course _now_ is the moment that Blue picks to turn up, and the flash of light that accompanies her arrival via relay is enough to make Piper's teeth ache.

"Wow." Her best friend stops by the table she's sitting at, and cocks her head at her. "You look like something the cat dragged in."

Charming. Piper sticks her nose into her mug and glowers at her from over the edge. "That silver tongue of yours is gonna get you in trouble one of these fine days." The sarcasm clearly translates, and she watches Blue's cheeks tint while her head ducks and her nose wrinkles in apology. "And until _you've_ spent the wee hours of the morning explaining sex to a twelve-year old, I don't want to hear it."

"Sorry." Blue clasps her hands behind her back, and rocks a little on the balls of her feet while she chews on her own lip. "Mad at me?"

Piper sighs, and runs a hand through her hair while setting the mug down. "No, Blue." She consciously gentles her voice. "I'm sorry for snapping at you; I'm just being a grouch because I'm tired." A small smile pulls free. "Welcome back, old-timer."

"Thank you." There's a brief silence broken only by the sounds of remarkably light footsteps as Blue moves almost hesitantly around the table. "Does that mean that I can have a hug?"

She can't really blame Blue for feeling as if she has to _ask_ after that welcome, Piper thinks, and now wishes that she hadn't been quite so snarky. To hopefully make up for that, she simply stands and pulls her in, and when those long, achingly familiar arms fold around her in return, every tiny bit of worry and tension and fear from the past weeks just _evaporates_ so suddenly that it threatens to make her knees unlock.

"God, I missed you," she whispers into Blue's shoulder, and feels her heartbeat and her breathing and the press of a nose into her hair. "Don't you dare leave me behind for that long again."

"I won't," Blue promises softly, and there's the brush of lips against her temple and the gentle stroking of warm fingers in small circles over the back of her head. "I missed you, too, but I can, um... I can actually take you with me now."

 _That_ makes Piper lift her head. "You what?"

"Yeah." There's a small smile pulling at the corner of Blue's mouth. "They added something to my Pip-Boy; lets me relay in with someone else. And gave me the okay to bring you." The pad of a thumb slowly traces her cheekbone. "If you're interested."

Holy crap. Piper stares and feels her head spin in a way that really doesn't help the throbbing behind her eyes, because entry into the _Institute_ is at once both terrifying to her as person and also incredibly tempting to her as a journalist. To say that she's intrigued by the idea would be a massive understatement, but at the same time, part of her dearly wants to simply _be_ with Blue – here, in peace – for a little while before they go off into trouble again.

"Wow, Blue." She blinks at her, and studies the patient look in those eyes as Blue simply watches her and waits to see what she has to say. "I don't, um... can I think about it?"

"Of course." Simple, easy acceptance, followed by a gentle kiss to her cheek that makes Piper just close her eyes and sink into her until their foreheads are touching and she can feel Blue's calm breathing against her face. "Take your time. There's no rush, okay?"

"Okay." She rises up enough to kiss Blue's cheek, too, because she desperately missed the way that smooth skin feels under her lips; missed the simple peace of being in her arms and feeling the warmth of that sturdy body against her own. "Sorry if I stink."

The sudden subject change makes Blue chuckle. "You don't, but I honestly wouldn't care if you were covered head to toe in brahmin muck," she scolds gently. "In case you haven't figured it out by now, I _like_ having you close."

"Yeah?" God, the smile on her face has to be absolutely goofy, and the light in those eyes is enough to make her heart do somersaults in her chest. "That's a little crazy, Blue."

"Out here, what isn't?"

Good point. One there really isn't any sense in arguing with, so Piper kisses her instead and feels her skin prickle and her breath catch when Blue makes a soft, tiny sound low in her throat and surges forward – just a little – as if she can't help it.

It's so _sweet,_ this simple, crucial contact; the way Blue's lips mold so perfectly against her own and the way her fingers slip into Piper's hair; gently holding her in place and opening her up and being slow and soft and _thorough_ until Piper is pressing against her and whimpering into her mouth. Every last one of her senses is _drowning_ in this woman; in her scent, her taste, the warmth of her body and the sound of her shallow breathing, and the sparks dancing on the insides of her own eyelids.

Piper is definitely out of breath when they part, and feels mostly like she just ran all the way to Sanctuary. "Hm." She clears her throat and flexes her fingers against the small of Blue's back. "You're gonna give a girl a big head if you keep greeting her like that."

"Good." Blue noses her and presses a smile against the side of her face. "So." Her lower arms settle on Piper's shoulders, and she can feel the motion of those long fingers playing idly with her hair. "You gave Nat the sex talk, huh?"

"Eerumph." She feels her face heat, and burrows deeper into that hold to hide it. "God, that was probably the most awkward conversation ever."

"I bet." A low, amused chuckle whispers past her ear. "Why now, though? If it was that awkward."

Piper sighs into the jumpsuit. "Well, she asked," she mutters. "And I'd definitely rather that she feels comfortable coming to _me_ , instead of going off to find out on her own."

"Hm." There's the brush of lips against the side of her head. "You make a damn good mom, Piper Wright. Even if you are her sister."

Coming from this woman – from an _actual_ mother, even if it is to a man twice her age and that _still_ makes her head hurt – that compliment somehow means more than Piper can even find words for. So she simply presses closer in response; feels the hold around her shoulders tighten and the way Blue's ribs move with her breathing, and thinks that she could probably fall asleep on her feet in all this peace.

"Tired?"

"Stop reading my mind," Piper scolds, but smiles at the chuckle. "But yeah. I think I got maybe an hour of sleep all things considered, so if you're not careful I am literally going to conk out on you right here."

Warm, familiar fingers scratch gently at the back of her neck, and there's the soft weight of a cheek resting against her head. "Feel free."

God. Piper breathes and focuses on that, and feels the living warmth surrounding her in a way that she sorely missed. "Stay," she whispers, and presses her hands against Blue's back. "Here. Please."

Blue's lips are soft against her temple. "I'd love to."


	39. Moment 039: While You Were Sleeping

* * *

It's strange to be back on the surface after all that time underground; to smell the faint traces of radiation in the air and see _actual_ sunlight rather than an approximation of it. It's also strange to be flat on her back in bed when it's the middle of the day, because even when she was pregnant with Shaun and home all day she'd find something to keep her busy, and there are several things she could do even without leaving the confines of Diamond City.

She's trapped at the moment, though, but only in the best way possible. Piper actually _did_ fall asleep standing up, and she must be as exhausted as she looks because she didn't even stir when she was carefully picked up, carried up the stairs and lowered into bed. She herself could have left after that, of course; could have at least crossed the market and started finally doing something with the house that she bought what was now actual months ago, but Piper asked her to stay and always seems to sleep better like this, anyway.

Right now, Piper is down so deep that she doesn't even seem to be dreaming; her body heavy and warm and _wonderful_ where it sprawls over her own with unconcerned abandon, her breathing deep and even and rushing over the top of her chest while her back moves slowly under the arm that she's wrapped around her. She thinks that maybe that one night at the castle is still spooking her because Piper only ever does this anymore when she's too far gone to think about it, and she makes a mental note to ask her about it because she enjoys this too much to let it slip away.

But first things first, she thinks, and studies what she can see of that face in the half-light; notes the shadows under Piper's eyes and the new, unfamiliar thinness to her cheeks with a frown while she traces a careful fingertip over a smatter of subtle freckles. She can even count her ribs through no more than a light touch, and that makes her swallow a sigh because if Piper doesn't look like this when the two of them are trekking across the Commonwealth from sunup to sundown, then she _definitely_ shouldn't look like this when her time is spent in the peace and security of Diamond City.

Her fault then, she decides, and presses a kiss to the top of the dark head as she breathes her in; goes over things she can do to help make her better, like making sure that she eats and sleeps and doesn't stress, and just _staying put_ herself so she doesn't keep worrying her as much as she obviously has been, because Piper deserves better than that; better than to be left behind in favor of something else, because _nothing_ is more important than Piper and she needs to stop making it seem like that's not the case.

That's where the new addition to her Pip-Boy comes from; the tiny, extra menu that lets her choose to relay with one person or two and almost cost her the new, fragile relationship she's building with Shaun because she had to argue with him for weeks to get him to agree to it. But she needs this – needs _her_ – and since Shaun eventually agreed, she guesses that she managed to explain that much even if she doesn't really know how to. She's learned a lot about the Institute already, and while there's a lot of those things that she doesn't like at all, she has little doubt that going against them would end in fire and explosions and cost this world a precious amount of technology and knowledge that it can ill afford to lose.

So. She pulls Piper in a little tighter and strokes her back soothingly when she mutters something in response, and stares up at the ceiling and the sunlight spilling in through the tiny holes in the metal. Baby steps; slow, subtle circumvention without being obvious, and biding her time to see if the deference those people already show her means what she thinks it _could_ mean.

That's another reason that she dearly wants Piper along, aside from this completely irrational need to have her close and keep her safe and just be able to feel her _breathe;_ the fact that Piper can _read people_ where she herself can't, and can hopefully help her walk what's probably going to be a very fine line. Only if Piper wants to, though, because the last thing she'd ever do is force this incredible woman into anything.

Piper makes a sound, then; soft and sharp and heartrendingly familiar, and she shifts until she can pull her in fully and curses herself, because she had hoped that the time spent in peace would have at least made those nightmares go away.

"It's okay," she whispers against a smooth forehead, and feels something in her chest ache at the staccato breathing and the fingers that grab at her, because she has a pretty good idea of what the worst ones are and who caused them. "I'm here. We're fine."

It takes less time to calm Piper now than it did the first time this happened, but she _has_ gotten a lot of experience since then because as much as the thought pains her, this is pretty much a nightly occurrence. Piper, at least, never seems to remember the cruel dreams, and she's glad that the two of them took to sleeping like this because that means that she doesn't have to shake herself awake early and slip back out of the hold that's always been the best way to ease her back to peaceful sleep.

 _My fault_. She bites back another sigh and buries her nose in Piper's hair; holding her close and feeling the bands around her chest loosen only when the sharp breathing settles and the iron grip on her clothing relaxes, and reflecting sadly on the fact that for all that she wants Piper to be safe and happy, she's doing an astoundingly shitty job of ensuring exactly that. She's also not convinced that actually _staying with her_ is the best way to do that since they do both have a tendency to get each other into the most awful amounts of trouble, but Piper has made it abundantly clear that she _wants_ her to stay, and as long as that's the case, there is no way that she's leaving.

So maybe just hanging around Diamond City for a while is a good idea in more ways than one. She can try to give Piper some normal memories to overwrite the ones of either one or both of them barely skirting the edge of death, and make sure that she's taking care of herself. At the same time, she can hopefully make herself useful around the place and turn over in her head exactly how she's going to turn the Institute around, and maybe... well, maybe accomplish something else, too. Or start to, at any rate.

Piper nestles closer in a dizzying blend of soft curves and sleep-scented skin, and she consciously slows her breathing back down from where it immediately jumped to; craning her neck enough that she can lightly kiss her cheek, her lips, her nose and her forehead, and staying there where she can feel her breathing and inhale her scent, and close her eyes with the knowledge that right now, everything she cares about is safe.

Here, too, baby steps.

 _I'm going to do my utmost to make you fall in love with me_.


	40. Moment 040: On the Edge

Piper wakes to humming, which in and of itself is odd enough for her eyes to flutter open in mild confusion. She recognizes the body she's practically sprawled across, of course, as well as the steady heartbeat below her ear, but while she's heard Blue whistle numerous times, humming – or singing, for that matter – is new.

"Good morning," comes the low voice from just above her head, and the arm that's wrapped around her back gives her a little squeeze.

Piper blinks. Twice. "Don't tell me I passed out long enough for it to be morning _again?"_

"Ah, no." Blue laughs softly. "Good afternoon, then."

Well, that's at least better, she considers, but … "What time is it?"

There's a subtle shifting and a few clicks, which she takes to be Blue flicking through her Pip-Boy. "Twenty to three, give or take."

Piper digests that, and takes into account the fact that when Blue arrived, it would have been about nine in the morning. Then she groans. "Please don't tell me that I've used you as a mattress for the past five hours."

"Okay," is the agreeable reply, with a lazy scratching of gentle fingers between her shoulders. "I won't tell you."

Smartass. Piper rolls her eyes and goes to lift herself up, but the hold around her back just tightens and pulls her right back down. "Blue!" She pinches her for that, which earns her a squirm but little else. "Come on; I must be squishing you."

"Nope." Both of those long arms wrap around her now, and one warm palm slips over her back in long, soothing strokes that basically makes her melt bonelessly into that sturdy frame. "I like you exactly where you are."

"You like not being able to breathe? Blue, you're demented." She smiles at the scoff, though, and resigns herself to staying where she is with an idle sort of pleasure. "How'd you even know I was awake?"

"Your breathing changes," Blue relates easily. "You take one breath that's sharper, and then it slows again but stays more shallow than when you're asleep."

Piper closes her eyes and presses her nose into the crook of Blue's neck, and knows that she can count on a single finger the number of people who have cared enough about her to notice a thing like that; let alone give it enough consideration to be able to explain it at the drop of a hat, so is it really that odd that she falls more in love with this woman with every passing day? Probably not, she decides; especially not when taking into account the fact that Blue – who is always doing something, always looking for a way to keep busy - has just _laid there_ for hours with nothing to occupy her time or her mind outside of staring at the walls, simply to let Piper sleep.

Two fingers tap gently at the back of her head, and when she both turns and raises it in question, something cool and smooth is pressed against and then past her lips; onto her tongue where it's sweet and sugary and familiar, because she always munches on a gumdrop when she wakes up, and Blue has clearly noticed that, too.

To have the laser focus of that attention zeroed so perfectly in on her really should tell her more than any words could. And maybe it does, because Piper watches those eyes while the taste of the candy spreads over her tongue; notices the gentle warmth in them, and this time doesn't spend even a single heartbeat telling herself that she's seeing only what she wants to see. Instead, she shifts until she can see _better;_ lifting herself onto her elbows and letting her neck relax until her forehead is resting directly against Blue's, with nothing in her field of vision but those lovely eyes and the rapidly increasing, affectionate sort of amusement in them.

"What are you doing?" is the question, accompanied by a tug in the skin she's leaning on that would probably be Blue quirking an eyebrow. "For the record, much as I like gumdrops, I'd rather not have them second-hand."

"Dork." She almost offers it to her just for that, but instead shifts the candy into her cheek and gives her a soft kiss. "I'm enjoying the view."

That earns her a frown. "What?" Piper watches her fondly, and waits. "That doesn't make sense. There's literally _nothing_ in your view but m-" Pause, and a blush that she can actually _feel._ "Oh."

"Mmhm." The fluttering in her stomach is almost enough to make her nauseous, but she relegates that part of her attention to focus on chewing the gumdrop and on _not_ smiling so widely that she ends up dropping it because _God_ , it feels good to actually, fully believe in the fact that _this is possible,_ and she really doesn't know how she managed to overlook all those little details until now.

Well. Other than self-doubt, but she forgets all about telling herself off for her selective blindness when long fingers slip into and through her hair; pushing it back and gliding over her scalp in a soft caress.

"Do me a favor?" Blue asks, and Piper studies her curiously. "Finish that thing quick."

"Whfm?"

"Because I really want to kiss you."

Now _that's_ motivation. She only barely manages to work the candy down to a size that she won't choke on before swallowing, and Blue must be able to either hear it or feel the motion in the hand she's got curled around the back of her neck, because the tug comes a split second after and makes her entire world narrow to soft lips and slow breaths and lazy touches. It's sweet and light but still makes something inside of her tremble, so she leans to one side and tugs at Blue until they've rolled over and their positions are reversed both because of that, and because resting on her elbows makes it very tricky for her to touch in return.

It does earn her a pause that she doesn't completely understand; one where Blue is hovering over her on her hands and knees and just quietly watching her, but it only takes a moment before she gives her head an almost imperceptible little shake and ducks down enough for their lips to meet again. Piper, in response, curls an arm around her shoulders and tightens it because she wants her _closer,_ and when Blue follows she doesn't know if it's an accident or on purpose, but one lean, solid thigh slips right between her own and _up_ and _against_ and _Jesus_ , she's never heard herself make a sound like the one she releases into Blue's mouth without having even a single chance at muffling it.

"Well." Blue stays close enough for their lips to still brush when she speaks; her voice a bare murmur and her eyes dark and hooded. "I think I like that."

Piper bites her lip and tries to remember how to English, but laughs, too – breathlessly – both because the hand that's slipped under her shirt and onto her waist is so light that it tickles a little, and because _oh, God, this is actually happening_. "You, um... might want to find some earplugs or something, with your hearing," she returns quietly, and cards her fingers through soft hair for the sheer pleasure of feeling it. "I tend to... uh, get kinda loud."

"No earplugs," Blue whispers against her cheek; lips soft and smiling and then _opening_ , and something low in Piper's gut tightens with enough force to make her lightheaded when even teeth rake carefully over her jaw because _fuck_ , of course she'd remember that. "I don't want to miss anything about this."

Oh, Christ. Those lips move down along the side of her neck while the hand on her side climbs higher, and Piper arches into her because she _has to_ and only regrets the fact that she's entirely too distracted to figure out how to undo that _goddamn jumpsuit._ She wants her _closer;_ wants to feel her skin and breathe her scent, to taste every inch and feel every tendon because that's just what Blue _does to her_ and finding that is so, so rare, just as she told-

 _Shit_. Her eyes fly open just when her fingers find the zipper, and the contrast between her cheerfully buzzing body and her now thoroughly whirling mind is almost enough to make her sneeze. _Nat._

"Blue, w-" She interrupts herself with a long groan when that warm mouth latches on to the base of her throat, and twines her fingers tighter in Blue's hair. _"Fuck_ , Blue; wait! Wait."

Blue snaps back; her eyes a little wide and a lot searching, and her hands swiftly slipping into more innocent, though no less tantalizing places. "Okay," she whispers. "Okay. What's wrong?"

Piper wants to laugh and cry all at once; partly because she _has_ had to more or less fight others off, and the difference between that and this simple, immediate acquiescence is breathtaking and heartbreaking and says _so much_. "Nat," she pants, and tries to force her heart and gut and everything to settle back down while her hands twitch on Blue's shoulders. "She finishes school at three-" A long, purposely slow breath. "- and usually comes home to at least drop off her things a few minutes after."

"Oh, sh-" Blue cuts herself off, and that clicking sound returns for a few seconds before it's replaced by a long, slow exhale. "Two minutes to three," she notes, and rolls her own weight onto an elbow with a sigh before scrubbing a hand over her face. "Damn, I'm glad you told me now." She chuckles a little wryly. "I think that'd be more of an education than she really needs on this subject."

"Urmfgh." Piper grunts in agreement as she flops back into the mattress and closes her eyes; feeling a familiar hand settle on her belly and covering it with her own before their fingers twine. "Jesus; I'm sorry. I honestly just forg-"

"Don't." The hand on her stomach presses down a little, and she feels the warm, still uneven breathing against her cheek just before a gentle kiss lands there. "You did nothing wrong; you have nothing to be sorry _for._ Okay?"

She sighs but leans into her; until their noses are brushing and she can feel the familiar weight of those eyes on her face. "I feel like I'm teasing you," she admits softly.

" _Don't."_ Stronger this time, and their joined hands shift until Blue can pull her closer. "This?" A gentle squeeze. "It's enough; it's _plenty._ The rest'll happen if it happens."

"When," Piper corrects, because she has to say something to keep the swelling in her chest from making her just burst into tears.

"Okay." Blue's chuckle whispers past her hearing, and the hand releases her own in order to pull better, until she can burrow against that familiar warmth and feel the slow stroke of fingers over her back. "When." There's the light, lingering press of lips against the top of her head. "So we should probably get up now, huh?"

"Probably," she agrees with a brief chuckle of her own. "I'm gonna need another minute or two before I'm able to stand, though."

A soft laugh washes over her temple. "I'll take that as a compliment," Blue murmurs, and nuzzles her. "As for the rest..."

"Wha- Blue!" Piper gasps and _grabs_ when the entire world seems to turn on its ear, and when it stops, she's several feet above the floor with her arms wrapped tightly around Blue's neck, a secure hold both around her back and under her knees, and a very satisfied looking vault dweller actually _smirking_ at her.

Piper glowers in response. "You big, bleeping bugger of a show-off," she accuses, and doesn't believe that sudden, wide-eyed look of innocence for even a second. "Would you put me down before you break your back?" The innocent look becomes a downright petulant scowl, and Piper sighs and has to work really, _really_ hard to bite her smile back. "Blue-"

" _Piper."_ In the exact same tone of voice, too. _Christ,_ what a brat. "My pack alone goes well over 200 pounds most of the time. You're, what, _maybe_ 130 if you're soaked to the bone?" The shoulders under her own arms tighten. "In fact-"

"YOW!" Much to her own chagrin, the sensation of suddenly sailing _upwards_ is enough to make Piper squawk like a plucked chicken, and to have her completely breathless even after being easily caught by the safety of those arms as she drops back down.

"See?" Blue lifts her up a little – but doesn't actually _toss her into the air_ this time – and lowers her back down. "Absolutely fine."

"Ungh." Piper groans and headbutts her gently. "I'm gonna get you for that."

Something about that phrasing seems to catch Blue's attention, and Piper watches her turn it over in her head with no small amount of fascination; studies those eyes and how the look in them turns from from consideration to hesitation to determination, and eventually settles on that familiar, soft warmth.

Blue ducks her head enough for their lips to brush so, _so_ gently, and then stays there, with her eyes so close and so very, very serious. "Piper?"

"Yeah?"

"You've already got me."

 _Jesus._ Piper has to close her suddenly stinging eyes while her breath hiccups in her chest because damn if this woman can't pluck at her heartstrings with the simplest of words and the shortest of sentences. She lifts one hand and traces her trembling fingers over that beautiful face because she _needs to_ , and has to spend several moments just breathing everything in before she can open her eyes again.

There is nothing in the look that meets her aside from patience and _care_ and the gentlest, warmest tenderness she thinks she's ever seen, and she pulls herself up the little distance that it takes for their mouths to meet again; slow and soft and _right_ , with Blue's scent filling her lungs and the complete, perfect security of those arms cradling her and _God_ , this is actually real, isn't it?

"And you've got me," she whispers into those eyes, because it's the truth. "So this... isn't a purely physical thing? Anymore?"

"It never was." Blue's voice is soft, and she's close enough that even the faint movement of her breathing is enough to make their noses brush. "Not to me."

Piper's throat clenches around a hard breath, and what feels like the weight of all of Diamond City just slips from her shoulders like sand through her fingers.

" _Finally!"_ The sudden inclusion of a third voice is well enough to make Piper jump, and she has all of half a second to do that before she has to yelp and _grab_ because _Blue_ startles so bad that she almost drops her.

"Wha-" Her head swings around to the doorway, and her eyes narrow. _"Natalie Wright!"_

"Uh oh." Nat's eyes widen and flick between the two of them several times before she scurries back down the steps. "I'm going over to Nina's house," she calls over her shoulder. "Don't wait up!"

"You little-!" Piper squirms in that secure hold without even the tiniest success at freeing herself, and growls; both at the slamming of the door, and at the face that's pressing into her hair while the body that's holding her up shakes in a very familiar rhythm. "Would you _stop laughing?!"_

Blue just laughs harder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this, I guess, is an omake of some kind. It popped into my head since Blue is, after all, a self-proclaimed (and proud) dork. Picture this after a random instance of Piper complaining about the inability to full-name her when she's being a brat, since she only _has_ one name.
> 
> **Blue:** I could pick a last name, if that helps?  
>  **Piper:** And what would that be?  
>  **Blue:** How about Reed?  
>  **Piper:** ... Reed? Why?  
>  **Blue:** *points to herself* Reed. *points to Piper* Wright.  
>  **Piper:** *groans* 
> 
> And just to be clear: No, we're not done yet. =P


	41. Moment 041: The Simple Things

Piper can't remember the last time she willingly stayed in Diamond City for this long; at least not without feeling that familiar itch to get out there and hunt down a story or just generally get into trouble. Alright, so she _did_ have that itch until Blue turned back up – really stayed mostly because she didn't want to _not_ be there when that happened – but ever since she did, the itch is just... gone.

It's a little unsettling, if she's honest with herself, even if it has been replaced by this curious sense of peace, because she's a wanderer at heart and she knows it. So really, it probably won't be long before the horizon starts attracting her again, and the wisest thing to do is to simply enjoy her sudden liking of domesticity while it lasts. That isn't hard, anyway; it's actually downright _easy_ to just focus on running the paper and spend this inordinate amount of downtime in the company of the two most important people in her life.

For all that she pretty much just dropped in – or was pulled, really – Blue fits into their little household like a hand into a well-worn glove. She gives Piper more time for writing by taking over when Nat needs help with her homework, and probably does a better job, too, since Piper has only the most basic of educations while Blue has spent over half of her life – cryogenic stasis not withstanding – in a school of some kind. More than that, she can provide _context_ for the books that Nat has to use because they were all written in her time; can give endless tidbits about things like where the Pythagorean Theorem comes from, on pre-war biology and history and geography and Piper has never been as awestruck as she is when Blue returns from a half-day trip outside the wall with a scuffed globe under one arm.

"This-" Blue draws a shape around one landmass with a fingertip, later that evening. "- was the country I lived in; the United States of America."

"How big is that?" Nat wonders; scooting forward a little in her seat while Piper remains reclined in the couch with a light hand resting on her sister's back; mostly because she's sitting between the two of them with the globe resting somewhat precariously on her knees. "I mean, it's bigger than the Commonwealth, duh, but by how much?"

That question, Piper notes, makes Blue look as if she's stuck somewhere between laughing and crying and completely unable to decide which way to go. She takes a breath, though, when Piper reaches up and runs a gentle thumb over the bisected eyebrow, and her expression morphs into one of intense thought as she presumably tries to figure out a way to answer that question, because how do you explain scale to someone who has no base of comparison?

"Well. I don't have a banana," she notes eventually, and chuckles a little when Piper sends her a completely befuddled look in response. "Got a pen handy?"

Nat snickers and Piper snorts, but also smiles when she fishes one from her pocket and hands it over. "Any more silly questions you want out of the way while you're at it?" she teases.

"No." Blue takes the pen and then focuses completely on the globe, and Piper feels Nat's quizzical look before she sees it, but only shakes her head in response and makes a mental note to talk to her sister about how some things just go right over Blue's head, though ideally not until the woman in question is out of hearing range.

So next time she leaves the city, probably, Piper thinks with a tiny quirk at the corner of her mouth, and watches Blue finish her doodling and turn the globe over until the landmass they've been talking about is facing her and Nat.

"Is that little dot our house?" Nat asks.

"No." Blue smiles a little crookedly, and shakes her head. "That's the Commonwealth. Just about, at least."

Piper's lungs empty themselves in a shocked rush of air, and she doesn't even bother to scold Nat for the sharp curse that _she_ lets slip because she'd be swearing too, if she had the breath for it.

"You're lying," Nat accuses.

"Am not," Blue returns in the exact same, affronted tone, and Piper pokes them both because they have a terrible, wonderful tendency to turn each other into little kids and _someone_ needs to be the adult before someone else ends up covered in mud from head to toe. Again. "If this thing was full-size, this here-" Blue taps the globe and then runs a finger along the line that goes all the way around its middle. "- would be about 25.000 miles long." She pauses there, and cocks her head at Nat. "You've seen me jog across the market, right?"

"Right." Nat nods; against Piper's shoulder because she's leaning into her side, now. "When you're going over to Myrna or something."

"Right." Blue chuckles. "When I do that I'm going at about five miles per hour, so if I just ran like that in a straight line across flat land and didn't stop, I'd be five miles away from where I started by the time that hour was up. So at that speed, how long would it take me to run around the world?"

And oh, Piper could kiss her for that. Nat hates having to go to school and always complains about how she's never gonna need what she learns anyway because Piper _never_ had to go and she's doing fine, so even if Blue is doing what she just did completely by accident, she's still giving her something normal and practical and everyday to do with that hard-earned knowledge; subtle and simple and so seamless that Nat doesn't even notice that Blue is asking her to do _math_ , which she hates with a passion and struggles with enough that she's years behind compared to her other subjects.

"Wait, wait." Nat scrunches her brow and tightens her fingers in Piper's shirt. "Carry the..." She squeezes her eyes shut and groans.

"Don't get frustrated," Blue coaxes gently. "25.000 ends in a what?"

Nat sighs. "A zero."

"Which means that it's easily divisible by what number?"

"Ten."

"Exactly." Blue smiles. "So let's say I'm going ten miles per hour, instead of five. What's the easiest way of dividing a nice, round number like 25.000 by ten?"

"Take the zero from the ten away from the 25.000."

"Leaving?"

"2.500."

"Mmhm. And because five is half of ten, you then need to do what?"

"... multiply?" Nat hazards, and waits for Blue to nod. "By two?"

"Which means that I'd have to run for a total of how many hours to go all the way around the world?"

"5.000." There's a little silence. "How many days is that?"

Blue chuckles. "Alright, I'll do that one. A little under 210 days – or about seven months - and that's if I'm running around the clock." She pokes her tongue out. "I would like a chance to sleep every now and then."

"Lazy thing," Piper chides, and squirms at the raspberry that spatters over her cheek in response while Nat snickers into her side.

The quiet life is growing on her.


	42. Moment 042: Treading Lightly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, guys; 60k.

Silly as it feels now, there was a good amount of time where Piper worried – somewhere in the back of her head – that they would get tired of each other. Granted, that didn't happen in the months they've spent trekking back and forth, but during that time they also had other things to focus on, and it wasn't unreasonable to think that being together 24/7 without much to do other than simply _live_ could be a different matter.

It isn't. True, they aren't standing over each other's shoulders every hour of the day; Blue still very much prefers to keep busy and will wander off to work on Home Plate or help out the other city dwellers, while Piper has a shit-ton of writing to do and both a household and a paper to keep going, and... well, everything seems to be working out into the most perfect, peaceful little life that makes her chest ache in a breathless sort of way when she thinks about it. They spend the night sleeping in each others arms – _just_ sleeping, because even on the nights where Nat is staying at a friend's house she could technically still walk in at any time – and Piper's nightmares have vanished like mist under the sun because it's very hard to have cruel dreams about Blue's death when that powerful heartbeat is thrumming steadily under her ear the entire night.

The mornings are almost lazy; waking and rising and getting Nat off to school, with Blue taking over the task of feeding them all if Piper looks to her like she's already halfway gone in a story. If she is, the most she'll notice of Blue leaving for her own things is the press of a fond smile against the top of her head as she drowns herself in her terminal and the words she's typing, and whenever she leaves her daze, there is always a warm pot of coffee waiting for her downstairs and – in the coolest corner of the house – a collection of snacks of some kind, since breakfast for her is rarely a large meal. Dinner, meanwhile, is usually something that Piper takes care of while Blue sits down with Nat and her school work, and in the latest part of the evening there's just them, and closeness, and idle conversation about what they both got up to; usually over tea, because coffee makes Blue's head 'buzz' - her words - when it's after dark.

It's wonderful, and mildly unfair as it feels, Piper can't help but compare it to the few other times she's tried for an actual relationship; to contrast how Blue fits – _wants_ to fit – into her day to day life with those who made a token effort at most and decided that they wanted someone who _wasn't_ tied down by family and responsibility. Nothing has been set in stone, of course; no big L-words thrown out there and no offers made of permanent residence, but that honestly doesn't matter to Piper right now because the way Blue looks at her tells her everything she needs to know in order to just enjoy the road as they walk it.

There are also things that make her a little exasperated, of course. Nobody is perfect – not even Blue – and the one characteristic of hers that still makes Piper just sigh and roll her eyes sometimes is how there seems to be very little middle ground when it comes to her attention span. Most of the time, Blue is either hopelessly distracted by every tiny sound and glint of light, or so completely zeroed in on one thing only that everything else in the world just disappears. Not that it _matters,_ of course – not really – but the cases of the former are exhausting when they happen, and Piper works to recognize the early signals and find something to center that focus ahead of time because the more she learns to read her, the more it becomes clear that being pulled in a dozen directions at once makes Blue miserably stressed.

Fixing the printer was one thing that worked like a charm - it won't again unless Piper deliberately sabotages it because Blue is nothing if not thorough – and from the times where she has had nothing else to suggest, she's starting to realize that the easiest way to center her best friend is to simply touch her. Twitching fingers still into peaceful calm under her hand, and even at the worst of it, the tension will simply bleed right out of those shoulders if Piper kisses her.

She tries not to use that method around Nat, if only to avoid the gagging noises in the background.

The other side of the coin, then, is when Blue goes into tunnel-vision-mode; where she's focused and calm and can literally sit for hours in one spot with one thing, and not even register the fact that Piper is speaking to her. There, too, her touch seems to be key; _re-_ focusing that laser mind with a brush of her fingers and watching Blue blink and smile and happily turn to her, with whatever she was working on smoothly left by the wayside for a more opportune time.

That, of course, only works when Piper is actually _with her;_ something she isn't at the moment but is going to rectify, because whatever Blue is doing over at Home Plate has clearly sucked her in enough that she forgot about lunch. So... Piper winds her way across the market and its mid-day crowd with a hastily packed meal under one arm because something something go to the mountain, and gives the resting suit of power armor outside the door a sidelong glance before slipping inside.

It's lighter inside than when she was last over a few days ago, and she traces the new, neatly anchored wiring and lights with her eyes while carefully clicking the door shut. There are more lamps just inside – in what used to be the actual house – but while the light thins when she turns to the part that used to be a warehouse, there is still enough of it that she can see the flooring stretching out; newly laid on top of old concrete, and painstakingly aligned with that of the original dwelling. Simple, but neat, and Piper slips the package from under her arm and sets it on top of a new table that's been nudged up against the back wall before wandering into the lower lighting in search.

It wouldn't have surprised her to find Blue sound asleep somewhere; she has, after all, spent the past few days poring over old texts, and Piper knows enough to recognize pre-war, military insignia when she sees it. So even if Blue hadn't been a little quieter than usual, Piper would have known that something was bothering her. The books, at least, make it a lot easier for her to guess what that something _is,_ and to remind herself that for all their progress, she still needs to be patient. Losing a loved one to something as violent as murder takes time to process, as Piper knows well. The fact that it was a spouse rather than a parent and that dealing with emotions just doesn't seem to come as easy to Blue... she honestly can't imagine what it's like for her, to try to work her way through that. She does know that it exhausts her, though, because Blue has been out from the second her head hit the pillow these past few nights.

As it turns out, Blue isn't sleeping. She is, in fact, sitting cross-legged on the new floor under the low glow of a single bulb; leaning back against a pillar with one arm wrapped herself and her left hand curled around a worn hammer that's tapping rhythmically against her right shoulder, and Piper pauses for a moment to simply _study_ her; the worn jeans and scuffed shoes, the faded, yellowed wife beater that wraps around her torso, the faint coating of dust on her face and arms that shimmers faintly in the lamplight, and the subtle shifting below the skin on her forearm as she moves the hammer.

In spite of the sheer, physical power that she wields when she wants to, Blue isn't broad or bulky. Oh, her shoulders are a little rounder than Piper's own – her wrists a little thicker and her abdomen noticeably more defined – but she really doesn't look as if she should be anywhere near as strong as she is. She's too slender for someone to look at her and immediately think 'danger', but that mostly works to her advantage; lets her hide the fact that while every muscle on her frame is lithe she is essentially shaped from solid steel, and – when in danger - gives her the natural advantage of the perceived underdog that turns out to be a wolf in disguise.

Piper is a little ashamed of just how attractive she finds that strength; of how much she likes the knowledge that she is _safe_ with her – that she'll be protected if she needs it – because it comes from a place that's a little barbaric and a lot primal, and really has no place in the higher, cognitive functions of a modern human brain. It's there, though, and she takes comfort in the fact that while it'll probably stay there, it's also only a small part of what draws her to this woman.

"Hey." She raps her knuckles lightly against the wall and doesn't say anything about the hammer when the knock is enough, because Blue isn't hurting herself and this sort of thing seems to help her whenever she's upset. "Lunch?"

 _Don't push,_ she reminds herself. Blue will seek her out if and when she wants to talk about it, so Piper waits while those eyes study her and – at the very edges of her hearing – picks up on the barest sound of the radio playing so softly that she can't even make out the song.

The little stare-down lasts long enough that she's about to offer to leave, but then Blue sets down the hammer and holds out a hand, and there is _so much_ in those eyes when Piper approaches. Her own hand is caught immediately when she offers it, but Blue gives it a tug instead of a pull – a question rather than the demand she could certainly make; that Piper wouldn't _mind_ or fault her for in any way – and when she follows it, she finds herself straddling Blue's lap and wrapping her arms around dusty shoulders while Blue's face presses into her chest, and _now_ she can hear the radio.

 _I can't understand_  
_No, I can't understand_  
_How life goes on the way it does_

 _Oh, Blue_. Piper pulls her in tighter and feels her heart about break for her friend; closing her eyes and pressing a kiss against a warm temple while her fingers slip into the slightly sweaty hair that tells her that Blue at least hasn't been sitting here like this all day. Still, she wishes that she'd come over sooner.

"Talk to me," she murmurs; rubbing the back of Blue's neck and feeling the arms round her waist tremble while Blue's breathing stutters against her sternum. Not enough for her to be crying, but still enough for Piper to hold her that much closer. "Please?"

It takes a minute and Piper lets it; lets Blue gather her thoughts and press her face into the side of Piper's throat until she can feel the flutter of eyelashes against her skin.

"I'm happy with you," Blue says; her voice hoarse and aching and her fingers curling into the waist of Piper's coat. "And it feels like I'm betraying Nate."

Oh, she needs to step lightly here. Piper takes one breath and then a second, and purposely shoves away everything that those two sentences made _her_ feel, because personal bias is not going to help. "Why?" She takes care to keep her voice gentle and – after moment's thought – elaborates since she could conceivably be asking about either. "Why do you feel like you're betraying Nate?"

"I _married_ him," is the answer; choked and hot and moist against her skin. "He was my best friend and I _swore_ 'till death do us part' and-"

"Blue." The press of her fingers against the back of Blue's head is light but _enough_ , and Piper breathes and prays that what she's about to say isn't the wrong thing. "Nate died sixty years ago; almost forty years before I was even _born_. You're not breaking any promises." There's a soft, pained sound against the crook of her shoulder, and Piper swallows and tries to settle her own heartbeat while her fingers move against Blue's scalp in what she hopes is a soothing motion. "He was a soldier, remember? A veteran, you told me." She's choosing her words very carefully; mostly because she doesn't want her own desires to color what she's saying. "So I'm guessing that at least once, he was sent somewhere dangerous. Did you never talk about something... happening to him, while he was away?"

"We did." Blue's voice is still quiet – still hoarse – but she does at least sound a little calmer. "He was a- a combat medic. His job was to treat wounded soldiers right on the front lines; get them stable enough for transport." She shivers, and Piper holds her tighter. "There was nothing safe about that – not for him – and he did three tours in different countries and I was always so _scared_ , but-"

"He always came back?"

"Yeah." The swallow is audible, but the frighteningly tense shoulders under her hands relax; at least a little. "But he always told me that if he didn't, he-" A sigh, and her voice drops to a bare murmur. "He wouldn't want me to mourn him forever."

"Okay." Piper rubs her back slowly and almost chokes on the guilt at how _relieved_ she feels, but Blue is the most loyal person she knows and if she _had_ a promise of the opposite kind to keep... "Okay. So are you breaking any promises to him?"

"No." Blue snorts faintly, and Piper can feel her head shake. "I'm actually keeping one." Her legs shift and straighten and lift until Piper is perching on her thighs, and Piper settles back when she feels Blue do the same, until they're actually _looking_ at each other again and she can wipe at those lovely eyes with gentle fingers. "I'm sorry."

Piper cocks her head. "For?"

"... going to pieces on you?" It's clear that Blue is puzzled by the question. "Not putting you first? I mean, this-" Blue catches her hand and Piper relaxes it and lets her; feels the trace of those fingers over her skin and waits. "- us?" The hesitance at _that_ word is palpable, but Blue seems to relax when Piper responds with a small smile. "It's so new. I'm- supposed to be focusing on _you_. Not on... me, or Nate, or-"

The kiss Piper leans in and gives her isn't hard; isn't long or deep or involved. It is, however, short and light and enough to silence her, and to have a startled blink aimed her way from those eyes when she breaks away again.

"You-" Piper tells her. "- have done nothing _but_ focus on me pretty much since we met, so don't even go there." Blue's head starts to duck, and Piper curls two fingers under her chin to gently bring it back up. "You are allowed to be selfish," she intones quietly, and takes the utmost care to hold that gaze. "You are allowed to _grieve_ and take whatever amount of space you need, and if you have to tell me to leave you alone to do so, _I won't mind."_

That earns her a frown. "Yes, you would."

"I w-" She catches the way Blue's neck cranes again until she's getting a definite _look_ from beneath long lashes, and sighs. "Alright, fine; so I'd mind," she admits, and gives Blue's nose a tweak in exchange for a soft snort. "But I'd also _understand._ I haven't- been _exactly_ where you are, but I have at least been pretty close." A warm cheek leans into her touch when she brushes a lock of hair behind Blue's ear, so she leaves her hand there and traces slow circles over her cheekbone with the pad of her thumb. "So I kind of get it, you know?"

"I guess you do." Blue's hands settle on Piper's legs at roughly mid-thigh, and the slow, idle stroking of her thumbs would be ridiculously distracting in almost any other situation. "You spend a lot of time telling me what it's okay to ask of you," she then says; softly. "Isn't there anything you want to ask of me?"

Sure. "Three things." Piper takes a breath and settles her forearms on Blue's shoulders, with her hands hooking loosely behind the back of her head. "One: Be you. Don't change for me, or for anyone other than yourself."

Blue chuckles. "That's not really what I m-"

"Two." The interruption is deliberate, and she has to work to hold back a smile when Blue rolls her eyes. "Be honest." Now she definitely makes sure to hold that gaze. "If you change your mind about this – _us_ – or have any concerns or regrets or things that bother you, _tell me._ Please."

There are several seconds where Blue just watches her. "Breaking this off would hurt you."

Piper drops her gaze to the hands that tighten on her legs, and nods. Once. "It would." No point in lying about it, she thinks, and looks back up with a slight smile. "But you know me, Blue; I'd rather know an ugly truth than a sweet lie."

"Mmph." Blue scowls engagingly, but nods. "Okay; I promise." One eyebrow quirks. "I have no intentions of actually ending this, though; just so you know."

"Duly noted." She smiles into the gentle kiss that Blue this time leans in to give _her,_ and wraps her arms more tightly around those strong shoulders when a warm nose nuzzles her jaw.

"Three?"

"Oh." Piper blinks twice, and pulls away enough that their position isn't quite as distracting anymore. "Right. Three: Be patient; mostly with yourself, though you're probably going to need to be patient with me, too, sometimes."

" _Sometimes?"_

"Brat." Piper flicks her in the forehead with a fingertip, but loves that satisfied little smirk. "The point still stands, because as you're so fond of telling me, there is no rush."

"Rrrgh." The low, growling sound comes only after Blue has leaned in again and pressed her nose to the skin below Piper's jaw, and she _knows_ that it's playful but still can't stop her heart from leaping in her chest or the pleasant shiver from skittering down her spine. "No fair using my own words against me."

And really, she had answer for that. On the tip of her tongue and everything, but right when Blue stops talking she _bites_ the skin just over her pulse point, and the only thing Piper can focus on is resisting the shot of heat that goes straight to her gut, and on muffling the high whimper flying up her throat against the side of Blue's head.

She fails.

"Wow." Blue straightens, and looks somewhere between smug and impressed. "Works that well, huh?"

"Ah... yeah." Piper clears her throat; sucking at her teeth and hoping that her face isn't as red as it feels. "So. Four." She holds up a hand and curls her thumb inwards. "Please _do not_ do that unless you intend for it to lead to sex." The considering look makes her give Blue's chest a poke. "And the first time we do, it is _not_ going be in a pile of sawdust, on an empty stomach, immediately after one or both of us being upset, or any combination thereof."

"Hm." Blue wrinkles her nose. "So now definitely counts."

" _Yes."_

The hands on her thighs slide up to curl around her hips instead, and Piper feels her breathing hitch when those eyes are suddenly very, very close. "Why do I feel like I could change your mind about that?"

She has to close her eyes to center herself, and does so with a sigh. "Because you could pretty much talk me out of – or into – anything," she admits, and chances a peek to see a now considerably more serious look facing her. "So keep that in mind, and think _here-"_ One fingertip taps against Blue's temple. "- before you do it. Okay?"

"Okay." Blue slips her arms around her in a simple hold, and her kiss is sweet and light rather than hot and breathtaking. "Lunch?"

Piper chuckles, and nuzzles her. "Lunch."


	43. Moment 043: Equal Measures

The one thing Piper minds about the few radio stations available is the limit to the amount of songs they have to play. Even Diamond City Radio – the biggest of them all, near as she can tell - starts looping after a few hours, and though Travis is clearly doing his best to keep things new, there's only so much he can do with the means at his disposal. And it can't be right, the logical side of her mind argues, that all the wealth of the pre-war world had only such a small selection of music available.

She clicks the radio off when _The End of the World_ starts up, because even if Blue is doing better in regards to Nate, it feels like the wrong sort of time for that kind of reminder; on an early evening after a long day, with the latest school week over and Nat still out with the other kids for that exact reason. Better, then, to finish boiling the water and fill the second coffee pot – the one with the obvious, somewhat crooked 'T' painted on it – and then drop in a few bags of tea; bits of mutfruit and their leaves, grown and dried in the little indoor spot near Nick's office.

And maybe she can do two things at once, she muses; take care of keeping Blue distracted from the song – because Blue seems to recognize _every song ever_ from nothing but the opening notes – and find out what the hell was up with pre-war music.

"Hey."

"Mm?" Blue is reading, but not far enough gone in it to not hear her. In fact, she looks up, and adjusts her seat on the couch until her legs are under her; setting the book aside and reaching out to take the pot from Piper to make it that much easier for her to sit, too. "What's up?"

"Why do you think there's so little recorded music left from your time?"

Blue is sitting back after having set the tea down to let it steep, but pauses in mid-motion to cant her head. "That's a random question."

"Not if you're privy to my mental machinations," Piper points out, and smiles at the soft snort.

"Maybe not," Blue allows, and catches her hand as she settles back fully. "Why do you ask, though?"

"Because it doesn't make sense that even DCR only has about two hours worth." Piper twines their fingers and – when she feels the light tug – scoots over until she can lean into Blue's side and feel a familiar arm curl around her back. "I mean- there had to be more than that in your time, right?"

A chuckle brushes warmly against the side of her head. "Oh yeah."

"So where did it go?"

Blue hums and the fingers in Piper's grasp twitch minutely; pads tracing over the back of her hand and a gentle thumb brushing her index finger from the first to the second knuckle and back. "What Travis has is vinyl records, right? Big, black plate-shaped things with grooves in them like..." Her free hand lifts to tap gently at the corrugated metal wall behind the couch, and she waits for Piper to nod against her shoulder. "Okay. Well, those are probably more durable; short of physically damaging them, I don't think there's much you can do to make them unplayable."

"There were other ways of recording it, then?" she wonders, and gives the hand in her own a gentle, reproving squeeze when a single, long finger curls enough to slip into the center of the hold and tickle her palm.

"Yes." Blue sinks a little deeper into the couch, and while her hair is still damp from her earlier shower, she smells clean and fresh and Piper has to remind herself to _not_ fall asleep against her. "The CD – Compact Disc – was the most common thing when I was in college, but you could ruin one of those just by leaving it in the sun for too long, so I doubt it'd stand a chance against nuclear radiation." The hand on Piper's shoulder is stroking her upper arm lightly; fingers occasionally slipping under the edge of her short sleeve to brush against skin. "Right before the bombs, though, everything was steadily going digital. The storage was moving to computers; disk drives and such, but..." A soft, thoughtful sound. "I guess they maybe blew along with everything else electrical, or were either scavenged or overwritten; turned into something more useful than the music of a bygone age."

"Hm." Piper considers that, and watches the lamplight play across the skin on Blue's knuckles. "So what we have now isn't really what you listened to?"

There's another little sound low in Blue's throat, and her shoulders move faintly. "Yes and no," she says, and bends her neck enough for her cheek to brush the top of Piper's head. "It wasn't the sort of thing that I picked up on my own, but I like it well enough because my parents listened to it." Piper can feel her face move in a smile, and mirrors it on little more than instinct. "And even when Nate and I were married, it was the style still used for dancing. Traditionally, anyway."

That catches her attention. "You can dance?"

Blue takes a breath, and then snorts softly. "My parents were basically the pre-war equivalent of upper-standers, so yes," she admits wryly. "Social functions and learning to dance at them was part of growing up for me. But after a few centuries, I'm probably more than just a _little_ rusty, and I was never at a professional level in the first place."

Probably true enough, Piper considers, but if this woman is as much of a perfectionist as she is with everything else, there is also a very good chance that Blue is downplaying herself because _she_ isn't satisfied with her skill level. Regardless, this is a side of her that Piper wants to know more about, so she tightens her hold on Blue's hand and lifts her head enough that she can look at her face. "Show me?"

There's an almost imperceptible widening of those eyes, and the fingers on her shoulder twitch. "Ah—" Blue opens her mouth, closes it, and then frowns. "Show you, or teach you?" she questions, and sounds a little out of breath. "It's... the kind of dancing you do with a partner, so I'd- probably look a little silly on my own."

"Teach me, then," she smiles, because as comfortable as they've grown with each other physically, Blue looks _shy_ right now and it's honestly nothing short of adorable. She does keep an eye out, though, because something about the set of Blue's shoulders when she rises and then tugs Piper up is a little too stiff, and when they've moved out into the center of the room, the hands that clasp her own are shaking.

"Hey." Piper holds those hands a little tighter, and has to duck her head to catch those eyes because Blue is staring at her own feet. "Blue, if you don't _want_ to, that's okay. All you have to do is say s-"

"That's not it." Blue shakes her head, and does so a little more urgently than she normally would. "I'm just-" She pauses and breathes, and seems to consciously push back at wherever it is that's distracting her. "I'm trying to do several things at once," she admits, and smiles faintly. "One, remember the steps. All of them, since we haven't decided on a specific dance. Two, trying to decide which one of us would better off leading, which depends on-" Her brow furrows. "Do you know how to dance? At all?"

Piper simply shakes her head. "Not a particularly wide-spread or valued skill these days," she explains, but decides not to mention the fact that what people she's previously had some physical connection with were rarely close enough to her emotionally for this sort of thing to even be considered.

"I guess not." Those eyes turn inward for a moment, and Blue's head cocks in thought. "Simple, then. Not too fast. Relatively straightforward. Basic," she murmurs; listing one requirement after the next as if she's flicking through an encyclopedia in her mind. A blink, then, and her attention is back on Piper. "Foxtrot?"

"... bless you?" The thoroughly unimpressed look makes her have to bite the inside of her lip to keep from smiling. "Seriously, Blue; you might as well have just spoken to me in another language. Whatever you pick will be fine, since you're the one who actually _knows_ what you're doing."

"Mmph." Blue narrows her eyes, but there is also a faint, upwards tug at the corner of her mouth. "Alright. Foxtrot, then; the base steps are simple, it's easy to slow down, and you can't get much simpler than a four-count."

"Glad to hear it." Piper rubs her thumbs over warm skin. "Then I hopefully won't step on you too much."

That earns her a half-grin. "Since your point also dictates that it's probably better if I lead, that shouldn't be too much of a problem," Blue relates. "You'll be going backwards more often than not, so if anyone's getting stepped on, it's you."

"Okay." That's fine by her, and so she lets Blue move their hands into a pose that she vaguely recognizes from the odd piece of old art or print she's come across; her left hand in Blue's right and her right hand on Blue's shoulder. That done... Blue frowns.

"Oh, wait." She rolls her eyes, presumably at herself, and reverses their positioning so Piper's _right_ hand is in her _left_ , and so forth. "I'm usually in your position, so I have to kind of..." Her other hand comes up to twirl one finger in the air, before returning to splay lightly over the outside bottom of Piper's shoulderblade. "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it; it's not like I would've known the difference." Piper moves her hand until she can rub at the back of Blue's neck because she's starting to do that slightly shifty-eyed thing that usually means that she's getting nervous. "What _is_ the difference?"

"The lead." Blue squeezes the hand that she holds, and the returning steadiness in her eyes tells Piper that her question – which was meant as a distraction _from_ the distraction, because Blue is rarely more focused than when she's explaining something – is doing its job. "I'm in the-" Her lips twitch. "Well, in the man's role, for lack of a better word, which means that I'm supposed to guide you. I start on my left foot, so it's my left side that I'm doing the guiding _with._ If I want to tell you to turn, for instance- tighten your arm and shoulder?" Piper does, and then feels a gentle push that makes her torso start to twist back. "I'd do that. Or, if it was the other way..." A pull this time, and Piper twists in the other direction. "See? So that tension is really important because- relax, please." She does, and this time the push just moves her hand, instead of her torso. "- you can't push a limp string."

Piper studies her, and raises an eyebrow. "You couldn't just _tell me_ to turn?"

Blue chuckles. "I could," she agrees easily. "And I will; don't worry. But in a full-out, traditional dance, you're not supposed to even make eye-contact let alone speak to each other, so all you really have to go on is practice and body English."

"Hm." That's not a nice thought; not with those gentle eyes trained on hers with that warm, fond glow in them. "I don't think I'd enjoy the full package."

"Then it's good that this is just us messing around," is the answer, around that crooked little grin of Blue's that Piper loves so much. "Now." She shifts a little, and Piper glances down to see her feet adjust until the toe of Blue's right foot is just barely resting between her own. "Try to always leave enough room between your feet for mine to do that when you're moving back," comes the advice. "It's another thing that makes it a little easier for me to lead you." Blue takes a step, and even if it's with her other leg, the nudge of her knee and the brush of her body is enough that Piper starts to move back in mimicry. "Like that." She slides back into her former place, and quirks an eyebrow. "Wanna try a basic figure?"

Piper quirks one right back. "What, like 13?"

"Veeeery funny." A pink tongue pokes out at her, but Blue's eyes are twinkling. "A figure – at least according to my old instructor – is a set of steps. For foxtrot, you want to take a step back with your right foot and shift your weight to it – don't overextend; just do what feels natural – good! Another step back with your left this time-" It's slow, but Piper appreciates that because the motions are unfamiliar and do take some getting used to, even with Blue's feet following her own and nudging her along. "- now, since your weight is on your left, use your right foot to step _to_ the right... annnnd close with your left." Blue's hand relaxes in her own, and her shoulders loosen imperceptibly when they stop moving. "That's your basic-as-possible, no-frills foxtrot."

"Four steps?" Piper eyes her. "Really?"

The low chuckle warms her face. "Like I said, basic." Blue's lips shape an easy smile. "There are corners and promenades and all sort of other things that doesn't even go into stuff like improvisation, but there's plenty we can do with this, too."

"Not going easy on me, are you?"

Blue's mouth tightens in a way that suggests that she's trying to muffle a grin. "Both of us, really," she admits a touch wryly. "I'm not used to leading, so I'm having to turn the steps around in my head as I go and work to _get_ used to it. So." The skin and tendons under Piper's hands go taut again, and the brush of Blue's body is enough. "Right, left, side, together. Good! Again." It's easier already to read the little signals and translate them into motion, and though the steps feel both stiff and unnatural, the pride and enjoyment in Blue's eyes are undeniable and more than enough to keep Piper working at it, even without the simple pleasure of just being close like this.

After another figure, though, Blue's fingers press gently at the back of her hand as both of them halt in place. "Here's where the lead really comes in," she says. "Since I'm the only one who can actually see where we're going, you're going to have to rely on me to guide you around or away from obstacles. Like this one." Her weight doesn't shift this time, but her foot does reach out and thump against what Piper guesses is the low cabinet in the kitchen area. "So here, since I want to turn you back and to your right to keep us clear, I'm going to try to adjust the direction, and I'll need you to just relax and follow. Okay?"

"Okay." The faint push of Blue's hand in hers – just like last time – makes her body twist in the direction she wants them to go, and Piper does her best to relax as instructed and just follow her lead. It isn't _easy_ by any means, but while her leg does end up twitching and fumbling a little to find a place to go, Blue's guiding is slow and patient, and by the end of another figure they've turned enough that the cabinet is at Piper's side, instead of at her back. "You know what I find most surprising?" she asks, and watches Blue cant her head in question while she guides them through a second, angled motion that puts _her_ back to the cabinet. "How exhausting it actually is to just walk around the floor."

Blue chuckles. "Well, it would be, when you only have me to go on," she agrees, and then smiles while two of the fingers on Piper's back start tapping about twice per second. "Having a rhythm to work with should help, so this is the basic four-count. We're still going slow, so we're stepping on one and three." There's a little pause before she starts moving again while counting softly - _"One_ , two, _three,_ four." - and while it takes a few more figures, Piper has to agree that it _is_ easier when that is added; that she knows better when to move with the tapping than she does with Blue's lead alone.

It feels smoother, and that must be the case for more than her, because the next time they turn leaves Blue grinning from ear to ear.

"Miss Wright, I do believe you're a natural," she decides, and looks so pleased that Piper has to fight back a blush even as she allows the grin. "Feel up to trying a few more things?"

"Lead the way," Piper agrees peacefully. "Pun completely intended."

"Not surprised at all," is the amused reply. "So. A more correct way of turning instead of me just pushing you around is the corner step. I'm still gonna step forward with my left foot while you move back on your right-" They do, and then pause there. "- and then we're going to rock gently onto our opposite feet _without actually moving them_ so that's where our respective weights and balances are... right; just like that. And your right foot is going to follow my left about 90 degrees to that side- good; weight onto that foot now, and... feet together. And we can really just keep doing that-" Blue sets them off again, and smirks. "- and go in circles forever if we feel like it."

Blue teaches her more as the evening goes on – even a simple twirl that has Piper learning what it means when their joined hands lift and Blue's fingers extended to let her move into it – and though the radio is off, the steady rhythm that Blue continues to tap out eventually combines with her humming under her breath as they move across the floor, and make it all the easier for Piper to imagine what this would be like to actual music.

She doesn't recognize the song, though. So she asks which one it is.

"... one that fits," Blue replies with a faint duck of her head.

Piper studies her, and wonders if it's a trick of the light or if she really _is_ blushing faintly. "Sing it?" she requests, and this time is the one to keep Blue steady when she about trips in surprise.

"Um..." Blue rallies easily enough physically, but mentally and emotionally, the flicker of her eyes is enough to show that she's still a little off-kilter. "We could just turn on the radio."

"We could," Piper agrees, but still pushes gently because Blue doesn't look _averse_ – just hesitant – and she really wants to know what it is about that song 'fitting' that makes her nervous. "But I'd like to be dancing to the same song as you."

That pulls a soft chuckle from Blue's throat. "I'd like that, too," she admits, with a smile that's gentle enough that Piper doesn't think she's imagining the layers in her words. "Okay. But in return, you're gonna speed this up to full time with me."

"So... stepping on every count, now?"

"Right." Blue takes a breath and straightens, and then they're suddenly moving at twice the pace; her palm warm against the back of Piper's shoulder and her eyes serious and concentrated as she guides them into full speed. "- three, four – corner – two, three, four. Keep going," she coaxes, and grins when the increased tempo slowly becomes smoother. "Yup; I think you've got it." She leans in enough to brush her lips against Piper's cheek. "Ready?"

"Do your worst, old-timer," Piper teases in return, and grins at the eye-roll that she just _barely_ catches when she's nudged into a twirl.

Blue clears her throat when she pulls her back in, and while the hand in Piper's suddenly feels a little cooler than normal, the fingers against her back keep tapping the beat steadily. _"I'm not surprised; not everything lasts. I've broken my heart so many times I stopped keeping track."_ Her voice is low and wavering a little, but Piper is more than willing to chalk that up to nerves, since it's clear that Blue can actually carry a tune. _"I talk myself in; I talk myself out. I get all worked up, then I let myself down."_

Piper slips her hand along the top of Blue's shoulder to stroke a thumb over the side of her neck, and feels the tension beneath the warm skin lessen just slightly in response.

" _I tried so very hard not to lose it,"_ Blue continues; steadier now, with the tightness in her eyes receding a fraction and her steps growing smoother. _"I came up with a million excuses."_ Her lips twitch into a faint, wry smile. _"I thought I thought of every possibility-_ corner." One, and another beginning. _"And I know someday that it'll all turn out. You'll make me work so we can work to work it out."_ More corners, until the room is spinning and Piper is dizzy and giddy and _oh, God_ all at once. _"And I promise you, kid, that I'll give so much more than I get."_ Piper's other hand is deposited on Blue's shoulder, too, and the one-armed hold around her becomes two-armed; pulling her in until Blue's forehead is warm against against her own. _"I just haven't met you yet."_

"What kind of tension is this?" Piper teases, and – when she folds her fingers around Blue's upper arms and shakes them a little - watches the corners of those eyes crinkle in a grin that they're too close for her to see. "Geez; talk about limp strings."

Blue chuckles, and pulls her in tighter still until their bodies are brushing from head to toe with every move. _"I might have to wait; I'll never give up. I guess it's half timing-"_ Her cheek slides against Piper's, and there's the lightest of kisses just by her ear. _"- and the other half's luck. Wherever you are; whenever it's right, you'll come out of nowhere and into my life."_ Her entire lead is now in the legs that nudge against Piper's as they move, but it's _enough_ , and when the corner comes, the hands at the small of her back hold her close enough for it to be seamless and breathtaking. _"And I know that we can be so amazing_." A sway, now – slow and gentle – and Piper just rests her head against one sturdy shoulder and listens. _"And being in your life is gonna change me. And now I can see every single possibility."_

She has all the warning that's the sudden tightening in Blue's shoulders to grab for them and keep up. _"You know it'll all turn out-"_ Blue manages to tease her even in _song_ as the room becomes a blur around them, and all Piper can do is laugh against her cheek and wrap her arms tighter around those shoulders and feel her heart leap and leap and leap again. _"- and you'll make me work so we can work to work it out. And promise you, kid-"_ Hands on her waist now – lifting - and Piper snaps for air and winds her legs around Blue in pure reflex. _"- to give so much more than I get."_ She's vaguely aware of being carried like that; of that secure hold shifting to the backs of her thighs and the room moving smoothly before she's lowered to a seat on top of the cabinet, but there is _nothing_ in her world but those eyes and the million kinds of light in them, or the way Blue that leans in and _over_ until their faces are touching. _"I just haven't met you yet."_

Piper kisses her because she _needs to;_ needs to feel silky hairs between her fingers and soft lips parting against her own; needs to taste Blue's breathing and hear it hitch around the low sound that comes when she leans in more like she doesn't have – doesn't _want_ – a choice. She needs this kiss like she needs air; the perfect, slow softness of it, the feeling of Blue's fingers curling around her waist and the rush of warm breathing against her face because _damn_ if this woman doesn't have the most undeniable talent for making her feel so much that she can't even process it.

"You're right," she decides when they part by a breath, and maybe sounds a little hoarse but she can see every meaning from that song in those eyes _(I believe in this. I will commit to making this work. Please do this with me.),_ so it's really all that she can do to not just start crying for all the right reasons. "It fits."

Blue's laugh is low and breathless and wavering a little against her mouth, but Piper can taste the smile when they kiss again almost as clearly as she can taste the promise; can _feel it_ right down to her bones in the arms that pull her in like Blue would never want her anywhere other than where she is right now.

The tea has gone cold long ago, and neither of them care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, I am setting length-records left and right these days.
> 
> It is _extremely_ difficult for me to describe singing and dancing as part of a scene and be in any way satisfied with the end result (that's why this chapter took a little longer, and why concrit here especially would be very much appreciated), but I need the practice for reasons and it _fit_ and I really just wanted to see these two dance and be sappy dorks. Hence, Blue's theorizing as a qualifier to sneak well outside of the 50's musically and, well... this.
> 
> I research the _strangest_ things for a fic; in this case how to foxtrot, and Lord, the amount of time I spent stumbling around to get the steps down well enough to write how to do them. FYI, Derek Hough and Nicole Scherzinger actually did a beautiful (if significantly more complex because _duh)_ version of _this_ dance to _this_ song – Michael Bublé's _Haven't Met You Yet_ \- on [_Dancing with the Stars_](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yV44QUIwrvo&t=2m38s) (the link should go to where the dance itself begins), and I don't think I've ever been so charmed in under two minutes.


	44. Moment 044: Inside Insight

Piper isn't entirely sure what she expects relaying to be like; perhaps like being whirled around in altogether more terrifying way than when Blue had done it, and definitely without the inexplicably safe stop at the end of it, in those arms. As it turns out, however, the most remarkable thing about it is how thoroughly _unremarkable_ it is. One second, they're standing in a sheltered corner of a decaying ruin – having left the city as normally a possible – while Blue clicks through her Pip-Boy. Then there's a flash of light, and the next second, they're... elsewhere. Alone in a circular, gray-beige room that's clean and _neat_ and way more teched out than anything Piper has ever seen.

She guesses that the sudden, very real knowledge of being _inside the goddamned Institute_ makes her blood rush from her face about as fast as it feels like it does, because she doesn't even have the time to blink before there's an arm around her back and a hand on her shoulder, as well as a warm, sturdy body against her side.

“Breathe.”

Sage advice, really, Piper thinks muzzily, and struggles to do just that while the world spins around her and every single fear she has ever had – reasonable and not – threatens to choke her.

And Blue... oh, _Blue,_ bless her, does nothing other than hold her up and try to calm her down. She doesn't push or pull; doesn't goad or coax or prod. She just _is_ – right there – steady and patient and rock-solid reliable; an absolutely unwavering anchor that simply waits and _supports_ while Piper attempts to regain her bearings. Something that, she reflects a little guiltily, she probably takes a little longer than necessary to do, even after her knees stop feeling like they're about to give out on her, but for one, there is no such thing as too long a hug from this woman, and for another, the sudden flash of understanding feels even brighter and more dizzying than that of the relay.

“I would _never_ bring you here if I thought for one second that you would be in danger,” Blue whispers against her temple; clearly still concerned. “Please believe me.”

'Please believe me?' From the woman who will ask outright only for what she desperately wants, and not utter a word of complaint on the occasions that what she gets is the exact opposite? From the one who bent her neck as she _never has to anyone else_ and accepted Piper's desire to stay in Diamond City, even if she believed that the goodbye was a final one; who dared only to ask with her eyes, that first of many nights where they slept in each other's arms? From the one who kissed her once and then _stepped back_ to get her reaction before doing anything else, who was quite literally – in a way that still makes her heart clench to think about – willing to die for her safety, and who _stops_ and _listens_ the second Piper asks, no matter the intensity or circumstances?

“I believe you,” she promises softly, and moves enough to not only turn the hold into a proper hug, but to also brush her lips against Blue's cheek when she feels the shoulders under her own arms loosen. “And thank you.”

“For?” comes the question; though not until it's been a few moments that Piper spends both almost _feeling_ Blue think, and also marveling a little at the fact that they're standing there – in an empty little room in _the Institute_ – hugging.

It's not so much _any port in a storm,_ Piper muses, as it is _this port in any storm._

“For taking as much care as you do to always give me a choice.” She pulls back enough that she can look Blue in the eyes, and brushes a stray lock of hair behind her ear before letting a fingertip rest against the skin just below the outside edge of her cheekbone. “In case I haven't made it clear that I appreciate that, I do. More than I have words for.”

That earns her the definite quirk of one eyebrow – the bisected one – and Blue has so many ways of doing such a tiny thing that Piper feels no small amount of pride in being able to classify this way as being both curious and a little sardonic.

“I hate to remind you, pipsqueak--” The corner of Blue's mouth twitches when Piper glowers. “--but words are your _thing,_ so that doesn't make a whole lot of sense.”

Piper rolls her eyes. “Trust me, old-timer, there is _nothing_ sensible about the disappearances of my otherwise unflappable vocabulary. Aside, of course, from the fact that they're directly caused by you.” That pulls a low, short chuckle from the other woman, and Piper smiles. “Do me a favor, though?”

At that, the amusement turns into something that looks about halfway between confusion and consideration. “What?”

“Try to focus a little less on what _I_ need.” She feels Blue's ribs expand as she takes a breath, and shakes her head before the words form. “Not because I mind the effort in any way; promise. But Blue, I gotta figure out what _you_ need, and that's extremely hard to do when you're as focused on me as you are.”

“Why?”

“If the next question includes 'where' or 'who', I'm going to tickle you.” The reflexive, immediate twitch makes her chuckle, and at some point, she really does need to find out exactly how ticklish Blue is. All signs point to 'extremely'. “As for the 'why'... because parts of this--” One finger points to herself, and then to Blue. “--feel unbalanced. It's like you place more value on me than you do on yourself, and I don't want that. This has to be even.”

“Alright.” The word is more pensive than agreeing, but the sound of it matches the tiny furrow between Blue's eyebrows and the way her fingers curl a little against Piper's waist. “You do know that a perfect fifty-fifty is pretty much unachievable?”

“Well, yeah.” Her agreement is light, because she does know that much. “One of us is always going to take the lead somehow, and that's fine. Just try not to concentrate so much on what I need from you, and a little more on what you need from me.” She gives Blue's nose a gentle, little tweak, and watches the way that smile makes her eyes glow. “You are insufferably hard to read at times, so help me out, okay? Tell me what you need.”

“You.” The reply is soft and simple and very much Blue, and while Piper had at least kind of _expected_ that answer, it's still enough to make her heart clench in the best of ways. “So I'm glad you're here with me in spite of how nervous the place makes you.”

“I don't think 'nervous' is the word,” Piper admits wryly.

Blue studies her for a moment. “You know I'll take you back topside in a heartbeat, right?”

She knows. “Do you want me here?”

“Yes.”

“Then this is exactly where I need to be.” Piper gives her chest a little pat, and takes a step back while consciously shoving down every misgiving she has about this place.

Blue has blind spots, she thinks when they start walking; leaving the small, circular room behind in favor of a large, angular one that's still almost eerily empty. But Blue is anything but a fool. If she thinks they're safe, then Piper has no reason to not believe her.

“Half a league, half a league, half a league onward,” Blue mutters as if she's talking to herself, and Piper decides that she probably is because she _will_ sometimes – rarely, but sometimes – do just that. Then, however, she startles as if something pinched her, and those eyes are on hers in an almost audible snap; wide and more than just a little alarmed. “Not that we're heading into the va--” She _very_ obviously stops there - actually presses her lips together until they whiten - and looks mostly as if she now wants to pinch _herself._ “I me-- I was serious when I said that I don't think it's dangerous h-- that w--”

“Blue.” Piper silences her with no more than the touch of a finger to her lips, and decides that while the obvious panic makes her want to hug Blue until _she_ calms down, the hasty, half-finished reassurances are so gosh-darned _cute_ that she _still_ has to bite the inside of her lip in order to not smile. “Breathe.” Using the exact same word – if not tone – is entirely on purpose even if the irony isn't lost on her; nor on Blue, it seems, whose startled laugh is little more than a puff of warm air against Piper's finger. “Whatever it is you're referencing, I promise you, I have no clue.”

At that, Blue studies her; her head cocking and her brow furrowing and that _gaze_ gliding over Piper's face in a manner so focused and intense that it's almost like a physical touch. Then – apparently satisfied with whatever her study has resulted in - she nods. Once.

“Good.”

Aha. Piper lets her hand get captured; relaxes her fingers enough for them to be nudged apart, and then slips them between Blue's own and curls them enough to rest against the back of her hand. “You know,” she muses as they start into the hallway. “When you put it like that, you're gonna have to explain at some point.”

“I know.” Blue's thumb is rubbing gently at Piper's knuckle and sending pleasant little skitters all the way up to her shoulder. “And I will. But I can quote the entire thing from memory, and doing so right now doesn't seem like a wise choice.”

Again: aha. It's pretty obvious that Blue is – once more – being very conscious of what she needs to do in order to make _Piper_ comfortable, and while she freely admits to herself that she loves being cared for at this level, she is also a little exasperated at how her best friend is consciously putting aside the entire point of the talk that they _literally just had._ Still, they're walking into the Institute hand in hand, and Piper is of enough of a strategic mindset to know what type of signal that will send. Knows, too, that strategy and tactics come more organically to Blue, which means that she knows exactly what she is trying to convey; not to Piper, but to the people they're about to pass.

Protection is something that Piper doesn't actively seek out from others. Not in this way, where it's less about defending an area of land and more about the aura that wraps around her shoulders by way of the hand in her own; a cloaking of armor as comfortable and warm as an old blanket. Anywhere else, with any _one_ else, she would be pulling her hand free because she's perfectly capable of taking care of herself. Here, though – in the aegis of every monster in the closet – she accepts both the gesture, and the fact that Blue is putting her first in direct opposition to what Piper asked mere moments ago.

Blue has been here, and so knows far more about this place and the people that fill it. She _means more_ to this place, or at least must think that she does, since she clearly believes that this will be enough to mark Piper as untouchable. Even if she also claims that such a thing isn't needed in the first place.

Piper just hopes that she's right.


	45. Moment 045: Gang Aft Agley

"Are you completely and utterly _crazy?!"_

Blue somehow manages to wince without moving in her seat on the couch, and looks off to the side while one hand comes up to rub at her ear. "I don't think so," she mutters; aiming her gaze at the low table in front of her before glancing up with a frown. "Do crazy people know they're crazy?"

"Ab-" Piper stops herself and takes a deep breath, and holds one hand up – palm out – while the fingers of the other pinch the bridge of her nose. Her heart is pounding against the inside of her ribs and there are tiny spots dancing at the edges of her vision even when she closes her eyes, but flying off the handle is _not_ what she needs to do right now, so she focuses on breathing slowly and calmly, and sighs when she manages to shove down the urge to _shake_ Blue. "That was a rhetorical question."

There's a few seconds of silence. "Mine or yours?"

" _Blue."_

"Sorry." Clearly, the tone is one Blue recognizes, and Piper rubs at her forehead and watches her best friend fold her hands in her lap and study them intensely; back straight and shoulders somehow still pulled up to her ears. "What did I do?" comes the question; softly. "Exactly."

Dammit, that wasn't what she meant to- Piper bites the inside of her cheek and breathes again; slow and purposely steady as she – also slowly – crosses over to the couch and maneuvers herself to a seat on the table with her knees on either side of Blue's. "Nothing," she responds quietly, and feels Blue's hands twitch when she covers them with her own. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you."

"People tend to yell when they're upset." Blue breathes, too, and Piper feels her chest loosen when the rounded shoulders do the same. "I'd just like to know what I did to upset you, so I can avoid doing it again."

"I'm always upset when you throw yourself into danger." Her voice is soft, though; gentle, rather than accusing. "Because the thought of you getting hurt or killed _terrifies_ me, and this definitely comes with a lot of risk for you." In fact, just _thinking_ about it is enough to make her temples pound again, but Piper pushes it back and instead focuses on using her fingers to rub gently at the hands between-and-under her own; on coaxing skin and tendon and muscle into relaxing under her touch, until she can thread their fingers together and close her eyes and lean forward until their heads are resting against each other.

Honestly, she would have liked a few minutes to at least explore Blue's – their – quarters before this particular bombshell was dropped on her head. Ideally, a few days to settle in; to get used to being where she currently is and maybe even get minimally _comfortable_ with it, but Blue – as she knows well – isn't much one for saying anything other than what's on her mind. As such, they made an outright beeline for this exact space, and the door had barely slid shut behind them before the words had started tumbling forth, and... well, here they are.

Piper sighs, and strokes a finger across Blue's knuckles. "Walk me through it?"

There's a long pause, and she opens her eyes to see Blue regard her uncertainly. "Literally or metaphorically?"

In spite of herself, Piper chuckles. "Metaphorically. The guided tour can wait for later." The tips of her fingers knead slowly at the backs of Blue's hands. "Start from the beginning?"

"The one thing that the Commonwealth desperately needs is unification," Blue obliges; not sitting back, but simply dropping her gaze to their entwined hands. "Governance, on an overall basis. Something to look to for guidance, and to trust in times of crisis." Her fingers tighten a fraction around Piper's. "The Institute is in no way trusted, but I don't think anyone can deny that it _is_ governing people, at least in some way."

"Through fear," Piper says. She isn't _trying_ to be an ass, but now more than ever, she wants to make sure that Blue doesn't lose sight of the big picture. "Through spying, and deliberately using a reputation of cruelty to its advantage."

"Yes." No argument; merely tired acceptance. "The Institute is guilty of that, and probably a lot more. But the people that _make up_ the Institute..." Blue pauses there, and Piper watches her lips first purse and then pull inwards. "I honestly think they're just trying to do what's right, in their eyes."

"Like the Brotherhood?"

Blue nods. "Like the Railroad. Like the Minutemen." Another pause, and the lifting of that gaze until it meets her own. "Like you and me." There's a slight, short smile, and a breath that could be both amusement and exhaustion. "Everyone is so ready to fight. To destroy, in order to protect. Why not-" Blue bites her lip. "-why not collaborate, instead? Why not take what's bad, and make it good?"

Piper gnaws at the inside of her cheek. "Do you think that's possible?"

"Anything is possible." A familiar thumb presses against her fingers. "And it's better started here. The Institute is the common enemy. If they can be turned around...

"Even if they could, standing with them would make _you_ the enemy," she argues softly. "Not to the Minutemen; I'm pretty sure those guys would follow you right under a nuke if you asked. But the Brotherhood and the Railroad? The average Joe?" Their eyes hold for a long, silent moment, and since Piper isn't surprised at all at the steady look, it only makes her sigh. "Is there _any_ way I can talk you out of this?"

"No." Blue shakes her head, but the motion is at least slow. Gentle. "I have to at least _try_ to make things better. I think- there are people here who... _defer_ to me, somehow. I don't know if it's because of my relation to Shaun or the reputation I've acquired, but there's an interest here, in having me around. Or at least it seems that way to me."

Piper feels her chest burn because _damn_ if there isn't truth to that. An organization as secretive as the Institute isn't going to invite just anyone in, so the fact that they gave Blue the okay – and the means – to bring in someone of _her_ choosing speaks volumes about how important her best friend is to them. Important enough to give her quarters – spacious ones, too – and enough to test her abilities by sending her out into the Commonwealth on their behalf. Adding the deference that Blue brought up...

"You think they want you way up their hierarchy."

"I do." Blue nods. "And while that would work beautifully, I'm not sure because you know how gifted I am at reading people." Her mouth twitches into a small, self-deprecating smile. "That's what I need _your_ help with, but just for the record? The offer to take you back topside stands. Indefinitely."

"I know." Even with that in mind the choice is a remarkably easy one, and there's a simple, but definite feeling of peace settling in Piper's chest when she angles her head enough for their lips to brush. "But like I keep telling you-"

"You'd follow me into hell," Blue chuckles, and noses her. "Thank you."


	46. Moment 046: Ill Effects

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1: I am _not_ a doctor. Just FYI.
> 
> 2: I'd like to say that regular updates will resume, but I make no promises. Life is life (na-na na na-na!).

Of all the things she expected - rationally or not - to happen to her deep within the center of the Institute, getting sick was absolutely nowhere on the list. It happens very quick, though. She begins to feel queasy after the first meal, and while the nausea lasts and makes her maybe a little _too_ paranoid, Blue doesn't say anything when Piper asks that the two of them split their respective servings fifty-fifty later the same day.

Blue is completely unaffected, and Piper is crouching over the toilet not half an hour after the second meal; a warm hand against her back and a cool cloth against her clammy forehead. By bedtime, the fever is making her head pound in perfect time with the twisting of her guts, and Blue is only reluctantly accepting her continued insistence that she'll be fine.

Piper is stubborn, and she knows that fact very well. It's family trait that she's at once both proud of because of the things it has let her discover and unveil, and one she's worried about because Nat is at least twice as bad as her. She's also smart enough to know that since Blue is perfectly fine, the food – which is the only new thing – isn't the cause, and her illness is probably no more than an ill-timed bug that decided to make itself known.

It could have been worse, she thinks groggily the next day, after laboriously convincing her best friend that she's _fine, really_ , and that Blue doesn't need to stay with her when she could spend her time actually achieving her goal, puzzling out more of the Institute and getting to know her son. Chances are that she's been carrying around the bug for a while, and it sure would have been a lot less practical to have it hit in the middle of a wasteland campsite with potential enemies around every corner. At least here, there's a door; one that at the moment only opens from the outside with Blue's hand print.

She could certainly be puking her guts out in less safe places, ironic as the thought is.

Actual food seems to be a lost cause; whatever she ingests goes right back up in under an hour, so she's glad of the long stretch spent in Diamond City and the few extra pounds added to her frame, because that's the only source of energy for her body that _isn't_ violently rejected. So she drinks a lot of water because she knows that hydration is now doubly important, tries to sleep for however long she gets between two rounds of vomiting, and does her best to perk up and pay attention when Blue comes back from whatever she's up to and watches her so very closely.

After a little more than a week, Blue's patience – in this particular case – seems to have run out, and Piper decides woozily that the fact that the idea is a relief to her probably says a lot. Even sitting takes a tremendous amount of effort, sleeping for anything more than ten minutes at a time seems impossible, and her thoughts grow increasingly more muddled the longer she's awake. She is, at least, aware enough to realize that Blue has someone else with her, and that she looks absolutely _furious_.

“Piper?” The outline of Blue's face is a little fuzzy, but her voice is gentle when she sits down on the couch, too; a fact that Piper appreciates, since it gives her an extra surface to lean on. “This is Dr. Volkert.” Piper guesses that to be the name of the man that Blue is now glowering at. “I'd like him to take a look at you and make sure he hasn't missed anything _else_.”

The definite bite in the final word is enough to make the man swallow audibly, and Piper manages a small, sympathetic smile. Blue is especially formidable when she's angry, and Piper is halfway convinced that she could scare the clouds from the sky with a simple glance if she really put her mind to it. So she feels kind of bad for the man, but is mostly glad that Blue isn't angry with _her_.

The weird haze between her and the rest of the world isn't strong enough for her not to notice the glint of metal, and she jerks her half-numbed arm back when she manages to focus because needles and the Institute should _never be mixed_ , and certainly not when aimed her way. She is, in fact, halfway to directing a sluggish punch in the doctor's direction when her wrist is gently restrained by a hand she knows.

“It's okay,” Blue promises, and rubs her skin soothingly. “It's a mild anesthetic and muscle relaxant. I'll make your guts stop twitching and probably knock you out for...” She pauses there, and looks to the doctor.

“At least until the morning, going by her appearance.” The man sounds at once both uncomfortable and apologetic. “Perhaps longer, depending on the test results.”

“Is that alright?” The fingers of Blue's other hand is rubbing slow patterns at the back of Piper's head. “You'll get a nice, long, uninterrupted sleep, and the doc can take a sample of your bloo-- shh, sh.” Her startled jerk is soothed away almost before it begins. “I know, sweetheart; I know. But please trust _me_ on this, okay?” The inflection is subtle, but definitely there. “Everything they eat here has supplements to keep people healthy. I won't bore you to sleep with the list, but they're things that people on the surface don't really get, which means that you're being overloaded with things your system doesn't know. I think that's why your body's going a little crazy.”

'A little'. Piper concentrates and gives her best friend as much of a deadpan look as she can possibly muster. “I ever tell ya y'have a real gift for understatement?”

“You have now.” Blue chuckles, and there's the warm press of soft lips to her forehead. “Please, Piper? The doc just needs a small sample of your blood, and he can find out how to make you all better again.” Those eyes are locked on hers; dark with worry and a little pleading, and softening further when she hesitates to respond. “I swear--” Blue lifts the hand she holds until her cheek is warm under Piper's palm. “-- if there is anyone else in the room, I won't take my eyes off you.”

She's going to have to accuse her of mind-reading tendencies if this keeps up, Piper thinks. Trusting the Institute to not mess with her while she's down and out is... well, not happening any time in the near future. Trusting Blue, though?

Always. Implicitly.

So she nods and allows her eyes to slip shut; listening to the slightly elevated rhythm of Blue's heartbeat and focusing on the feeling of long, warm fingers sliding through her hair instead of the the thicker, chillier touch to her arm and the mild sting of the needle; something that becomes much easier when the injection actually hits about two seconds later and turns the mild haze into a thick, irresistible fog that effortlessly pulls her into a deep state of peaceful relaxation.

She barely – before the soothing darkness takes her fully – has the time to feel the touch shift; to feel herself being cradled and lifted like a child when Blue stands; to hear low words being exchanged without being able to puzzle out their meanings, and to feel the gentle, rolling motion of Blue's walk before the secure hold becomes the newly familiar softness of the mattress while the door hisses open and closed in the next room.

When the touch leaves, some very essential part of her panics; fighting against the effects of the drug because it's _dark_ and she's _alone_ and needs to be able to _defend herself_ , and she thinks that maybe she makes some kind of sound, because it doesn't take half a second before there's a warm palm on her belly and the weight of another body swiftly settling on the mattress beside her, followed by the hold around her resuming to tug her into an embrace that's all kinds of warm and _safe_ and peaceful, with steady strokes of gentle fingers over her back and Blue's familiar scent filling every breath she takes.

“It's okay,” that well-known voice whispers in her ear. “You're safe. Just rest.”

She does.

 


	47. Moment 047: Guilt

* * *

How? _How_ could something so simple get overlooked? They should have _thought_ of this – _she_ should have thought of this – because of _course_ the biology of a person who spends most of their life _not_ exposed to the constant radiation on the surface would be different. Surface dwellers – people like Piper - who were born and raised and have lived their entire lives in that climate... their bodies would have undergone a subtle form of evolution over the centuries since the bombs; would have adjusted to what's available in the food and water and even the _air_ there, and found a way to work with what their hosts had to offer as supply.

For one, she thinks, and keeps a hand in the space between Piper's shoulders where she can feel the steady, reassuring beat of her heart, surface dwellers get things like vitamin D naturally due to simple exposure to actual sunlight, where the people of the Institute only have a facsimile and thus take that in through supplements. The healthy levels already in Piper's system means that she has been massively overexposed to that alone in the past week, and she herself is _furious_ because hypervitaminosis of any kind is _dangerous;_ something she learned from her obstetrician back when she was pregnant with Shaun.

Nausea, dizziness, inability to sleep... her now peacefully snoozing companion has been ticking all the boxes for symptoms she memorized literal decades ago, and it _still_ took her seeing Piper flexing her hands due to numbness to cause a ring at the back of her head that was less a bell and more a siren.

She had left X6 outside the door to their quarters with a hasty order to monitor Piper's vitals as best his systems would allow from there (Piper is uncomfortable enough around the _people_ of the Institute; let alone the coursers), and had made a beeline for the infirmary with the synth's agreement to find her _immediately_ if anything worsened. Dean Volkert, when found and confronted – or attacked, perhaps, but how was she _supposed_ to react? - had sputtered something about how new arrivals from the surface _were_ tested and their diets adjusted but they were usually brought _to_ him for that, and he'd assumed that since Piper had never showed, it hadn't been needed in her case.

'Seeing red' or 'spitting nails' would be the absolute _minimum_ level needed to describe her anger at this half-assed reasoning, and it had taken monumental effort to choke that back and instead focus on dragging him with her – initially by the ear – and bitingly reciting the Hippocratic Oath to him on their half-frogmarch to the residential sector.

She stills dearly wants to give him a right proper dressing down; one that would have even Nate's first drill sergeant either blushing to the roots of his sparse hair or laughing himself into next week. Maybe both.

But that's for later. Right now, her absolute focus is on the woman in her arms; unconscious for the 42nd hour straight, and down so deep that she didn't even stir when she was lifted back out of the bed and carried to the infirmary after a pale-faced medical aide showed with test results that she really needs to have a good, private cry about when time allows. Dr. Volkert – to his credit – hadn't wasted time playing messenger in person. He had instead hurried to have a single bed in the infirmary cornered off, and now spends the majority of his time working out the solutions that are added every few hours to the IV attached to Piper's hand, as well as constantly adjusting a schedule to bring all those horribly red spikes of _everything_ back to normal levels while ensuring that his patient still gets the nutrients that she _does_ need.

The first 16 hours were exhaustively trial-and-error, because Piper, it turns out, is highly sensitive to a good number of the chemicals that the Institute uses for both food supplements and medical solutions. Because of that, her body has been working overtime from basically the first bite of her first meal here in an effort to cleanse itself of pretty much anything that's been put into it, and the best way the medical staff have of ensuring that Piper's system _doesn't_ overwork itself to the point of permanent damage is to keep her sedated, if only because it keeps her unaware of exactly what's going on and thereby from stressing over it.

So it's probably a good thing that she kept her more severe – and sadly accurate – suspicions to herself, that half-lifetime ago when she explained to Piper what she thought was happening. Doesn't keep her from feeling guilty over lying by omission, though, or from savagely scolding herself in the privacy of her own head for not picking up on it sooner; hell, for not even considering that it could be an issue in the first place.

By all rights, _she_ did this. To Piper. And God help her, now she can't do anything other than stay with her and wait for Dr. Volkert and his team to work their magic; to try to focus on their assurances that Piper _will_ be fine, and that it'll just take a while for her system to flush to the point where they feel comfortable in letting her wake back up.

"Mother." The voice makes her look up; not much, but enough that she can see Shaun stepping past the curtain that separates their little bay from the infirmary at large and still keep Piper's peaceful features in her peripheral vision. "I trust that your friend is improving?"

"Slowly," she agrees; softly, in spite of knowing that the steady supply of carefully selected anesthetics will keep Piper under even if she were to shout in her ear. "According to the latest tests."

"I'm gratified to hear that." Shaun seats himself in the single chair available; moved to the side of the bed the furthest from her when the steady trickle of visitors – Shaun, Allie Filmore, Clayton Holdren and of course Dean Volkert – seemed to realize that she _will_ look at them, but only if it means that she isn't looking away from Piper. "Dr. Volkert tells me that he expects her results to come back with an acceptable level of stability in the next day or two."

That makes her frown. "If you knew, then why did you ask?"

The corner of Shaun's mouth twitches in a way that reminds her very much of Nate. "Politeness," he admits, and folds his hands atop his knees. "Something of an ice breaker, if you will."

"Ah." She doesn't like the fact that he feels the need to _break_ the ice in the first place, but she supposes that she can understand it all the same. Much as the thought pains her, there is little point in denying the fact that she and Shaun will never have a loving, mother-son relationship; that they're family in name alone, and that the most she can try for is a semblance of friendship with him.

But again, that's for later, and she tucks both the thoughts and their accompanying emotions away in a corner of her mind where they won't distract her. "Is this a social call?"

"Not quite." Shaun clears his throat. "You made a request of me after your return, if you recall. One related to your young friend, here."

'Friend'. She turns her gaze completely to Piper since the invitation is there anyway, and wonders if that term is an age thing since she remembers her grandparents referring to Nate in the same manner, way back when they'd first become an item. She can understand Shaun defaulting to it, though; she never did explain to him exactly what she and Piper are to each other. Mostly because no actual label has been attached by either of them, so she isn't entirely sure which one to use when mentioning Piper to others.

'Girlfriend' sounds... a little juvenile for her tastes, though it's probably not an inappropriate term. 'Lover', meanwhile, sounds entirely too focused on the sexual aspect, which is non-existent so far anyway. Partner? She rolls that one around her head a few times; at once both liking the word and worrying that it seems professional more so than emotional, and then gives the entire thought process a firm punt out of her mind because her inability to find an appropriate description is starting to annoy her.

"And?"

Shaun – who has been quietly waiting for her attention to return to him – smiles in a way that even she recognizes as her own image. "I brought it up with the directorate at our last meeting, and your request was approved. However." He holds up a hand. "We do ask for one adjustment."

It feels oddly like being back in court to negotiate a settlement. "That being?"

"The Institute is willing to sign executive control of unit X6-88 over to you, to the point where even I won't be able to countermand any instructions you give it," Shaun tells her. "But as Ms. Wright is... not of a favorable disposition where the safety of our organization is concerned, we hesitate to offer that level of clearance to her."

She takes a breath that isn't quite a sigh. "Shaun, I'm not sure if _I'm_ of a favorable disposition where 'your organization' is concerned," she counters gently. "Yes, you've achieved great things here, but at what cost? To everyone _not_ living here, your people are the monster in the closet."

"Unfortunate," he concedes. "Not a belief that we've actively worked to foster, however."

"Is it one that you've actively worked to counter?" she returns. "Or has it been a matter of you taking the easier course to stay in the shadows, much like a witness to a crime in progress can choose to walk away and thereby be guilty by inaction?" She watches Shaun frown, and feels Piper's slow, somnolent breathing warm the top of her chest. "Or have you _been_ the criminal all along; spying on the victims to better know which angle to strike at them from?"

There is a long moment where they're quietly watching each other from across a gulf that she _hopes_ they'll be able to bridge; filled only by the faint sounds of a late evening in the infirmary and Piper's steady breathing. Then, finally, Shaun is the first to move; settling further back into his seat and letting his mouth shape a wry sort of smile.

"I wonder," he says thoughtfully. "Just how different the Institute would be if it were under your guidance, rather than mine."

She isn't sure how to respond to that, and so simply says nothing.

"Ah, well." Shaun exhales slowly, and scratches his bearded chin. "In any case, Mother, you have – as always – given me much to think about."

For that, she finds a smile. "I tend to do that," she admits, and listens to the low chuckle that also sounds a lot like Nate. "Has this changed your decision?"

"On either aspect?" he wonders, and waits for her nod before shaking his head. "No. In regards to you... well, the subject was brought up and as such has already been discussed. Where young Ms. Wright is concerned-" Briefly, she wonders how strange this must be for _him;_ to not only have a mother under half his age, but one with a romantic interest in someone nearly a _third_ his age. "- I imagine that if you truly do wish to circumvent our choice, you'll find a way to do so with or without our aid."

"Probably." She ducks her head in agreement, and studies the faint amusement in eyes the same color as her own. "Any chance you can get me a complete copy of X6's specific code?"

"I'll have the holotapes brought to you by morning," Shaun agrees in a tone that's somewhere between exasperated and oddly proud; rising from his seat and straightening his pristine lab coat before giving her shoulder a pat that's at least only _slightly_ awkward. "Good night, Mother. Try to get some rest."

Rest. She swallows twice, and half-listens to Shaun's retreating footsteps and the already depressingly familiar sounds of the infirmary while she brushes an errant lock of dark hair away from Piper's face and just watches her breathe.

This promise, at least, she intends to keep.


	48. Moment 048: Absolution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Jess:** You're right; I completely forgot to work that explanation into the last chapter. Thanks for reminding me so I could put it in this one. =P

To say that Piper is surprised to wake up in what looks like a hospital bed would be an understatement, but it does help to explain why she feels like she's been trampled by a runaway horde of brahmin. Her mouth is dry enough to make it feel as if she's been chewing on mattress stuffing, and her entire body is so heavy that it makes her wonder if she's overslept by a month or so.

The overhead lights are painfully bright to her aching eyes, but the gentle touch slowly tracing circles over her cheekbone is one she knows, and provides enough incentive for her to force her iron-heavy eyelids into motion and blink until her vision clears.

When it does, she frowns, because Blue looks at least twice as wrung out as Piper feels.

"Wh..." The words stick to the roof of her mouth alongside her tongue, which seems to have swelled by three sizes or so since last she noticed it.

"Here." The hand leaves her face and instead presses something to her lips; a straw, she decides after a disconcertingly dizzying glance, and one that sits in a glass of water. "Small sips. Give your body a chance to wake up."

"Mmph." She listens because Blue – as ever – sounds like she knows what she's talking about, and takes care to drink slowly even though the simple water feels like the most wonderful thing in the world to her parched throat. She even feels relatively human again after she's nursed half a glass for several minutes, to the point where her previously unresponsive arms have come back to themselves enough to let her hold the glass on her own. "Blue?"

"Mm?"

"Where are we, and why?"

"The Institute's infirmary." Blue's voice is little more than an exhausted breath as she slumps forward in her seat in the chair by Piper's bedside, and sounds – as she scrubs a hand over her face – uncommonly hoarse. "Do you remember me telling you about the supplements this place adds to the food?"

Piper watches her for a long moment, and notices more than anything the cobweb-like cracks of red in Blue's eyes that are so numerous that they almost drown out the white around her pupils. "You know, when you phrase it that way, you only really make me wonder how long I've been out for."

"Five days," is the answering murmur, with Blue's gaze dropping to her own hands, which are clenching rhythmically between her knees. "Give or take a few hours."

Damn. Well, at least that explains why Blue looks like she hasn't slept – or done anything but the most basic grooming – for about a week. That's the main thing keeping Piper from flying into a blind panic, because it's patently obvious that while she's been out for days, she's never been left _alone_ for some ill-intentioned synth-copier to mess with.

"That bad, huh?" is therefore all she says; with a crooked smile that's mostly an effort to make the woman at her bedside relax.

Blue's mouth tightens in a pensive little frown. "Well... yes and no," she hedges. "It- you know how a shelf can bend if you put too much weight on it? That's kind of what was happening. You're bordering on allergic to a lot of the stuff they use here, so your body was working way too hard to get rid of everything it couldn't handle. Nothing happened that can't be undone, but _because_ your system is also sensitive to everything they'd normally use to make you better, they figured that the safest thing to do was to keep you under until..." Blue raises her hands and touches her fingers together at the tips; bending them at the first knuckle so that they shape a V, and then lifting them until they instead form a level surface. "You know?"

Piper guesses that she does, or that she can at least keep up. "Hm." She stretches out a hand that still feels very heavy and catches one of Blue's; feels the unusual chill in those long fingers and the constant, exhausted tremble in them. "Why not just take me back topside, if it was the food here turning my guts inside out?"

"That was my first suggestion," Blue sighs. "But Dr. Volkert said that while that might work, going from a constant surplus to no extras at all could also have just as bad of an effect on you as the reverse did." She rubs at her eyes with her free hand, and spends several seconds blinking sluggishly. "He'd rather do a more controlled decrease, in an environment where you could be monitored by someone who knew what was happening and what to look out for."

That makes sense, Piper supposes, and rubs the fingers she holds with her own in an effort to bring some warmth back into them. "So if I was never in any real danger while being poked from all angles here, why do you look like a discarded deathclaw chew toy?"

Blue snorts a laugh that sounds somewhere between startled and tearful, and slumps forward until her face is pressing into the covers over Piper's stomach.

Ah. Piper moves her free hand enough to tangle it in her best friend's hair, and scratches gently at the overly warm scalp beneath the matted strands. Maybe, she thinks, that's a conversation best saved for somewhere a little more private than a curtain away from God knows how many people. And for a time when Blue doesn't look like a passing breeze could knock her on her ass.

"Hey." She gives the back of Blue's head a little tap, and waits until a single eye is popping open to regard her. "Think you can bust me out of here?"

Blue gives the covers a considering sort of frown. "Yes," she then decides. "How far out?"

"Just back to our quarters," Piper chuckles. "For all that I've apparently slept for a week, I still feel like I could conk for another two, so I want a shower, a bed a big enough for both of us, and you. Not necessarily in that order." She rubs the pad of one finger slowly across the skin above Blue's eyebrow – the bisected one – and watches the long lashes flutter in response. "Anything I should know about that'll prevent that?"

"I don't think so," Blue muses; lifting herself up enough that Piper can see her entire face instead of just half of it. "There are some pills you have to take for a while to get all your readings completely back to normal and they'll definitely be keeping an eye on what's added to your food, but..." She shakes her head, and her thumb strokes gently at the back of Piper's fingers. "No reason to keep you here for that. Dr. Volkert wants some more samples to test over the next couple of weeks just to make sure you're okay, but I honestly think he'd also like this corner of his infirmary back."

Given that the amount of space – and therefore beds – is probably severely limited, Piper can easily believe that. And while she's still a far cry indeed from being any kind of comfortable within the walls of the Institute, she can't deny that in spite of how wrung out she feels, it's still much better than how she was _before_ she woke up in the infirmary. So she's willing to consider at least the resident doctor a hesitant ally.

Leaving the infirmary is interesting. Blue _literally_ looks like she's only on her feet out of sheer habit – in fact, she seems about half a second from outright falling over when she stands up – but somehow, she manages to shove her exhaustion back; to focus her attention on Piper and making sure that _she_ is stable enough. It seems to fool everyone apart from – obviously – Piper, and apparently also Dr. Volkert, who gives her best friend a rather narrow look as he hands over Piper's prescription.

Piper manages to catch his eye, though, and gives her head a subtle, little shake; mostly because she knows that Blue is capable of rivaling even Nat in term of obstinacy, and that there is little other than frustration to be gained in trying to talk her out of something when she's first set her mind to it. The doctor thankfully seems to take her meaning, and restrains himself to a small sigh before sending them on their way and earning himself a few more points in Piper's book; one for noticing Blue's state and being willing to bring it up, and one for backing down when advised.

If Piper was a doctor, she'd be insisting on some lengthy bed rest herself from no more than a glance at her best friend. But since bed is exactly where _she's_ headed and she doubts that Blue is going to leave her alone for any longer than necessary, there's no harm in taking a little walk to get there. It's a peaceful one, at least, since it's apparently pretty late in the evening and the corridors are therefore mostly deserted, and odd as it is to realize, there is a definite feeling of peace associated with hearing the hiss of the door to their quarters sliding shut behind them.

Peace, in the Institute. Piper isn't sure if wonders will ever cease, and that feeling is only strengthened by the fact that she actually manages to convince Blue to shower and go to bed first. She herself only makes for the small bathroom when her at times slightly over-devoted protector is safe and clean and comfortably tucked into bed with those blood-shot eyes _closed_ , and once she's under the spray (which is strong enough that she can't quite seem to make herself not jump when it hits her), she pretty much scrubs herself pink all over because _damn_ if she doesn't feel grungy.

Once dry and re-dressed in a clean, overlong sleep shirt, she does feel a good deal more human. She's still ready to pass out the second her head hits any remotely soft surface, of course, but not enough to keep her from stopping at the table where she left the small bottle of innocuous-looking, white pills.

"Now," she mutters to herself as she turns the bottle over in her hand. "When am I supposed to take these?"

"With every meal," comes the groggy answer from beyond the bedroom door.

"Blue!" Piper strides over to the doorway and leans on it with one hand; the other closing around the bottle before settling on her hip. "For God's sake, _go to sleep._ How long have you been awake at this point?!"

"I don't even know anymore!" Blue groans as she turns onto her side; yanking her pillow free from _under_ her head to instead clap it over the side of her face. "What year is it?"

Piper doesn't quite manage to muffle her snort of laughter; not even with slumping against the frame of the door on one shoulder and clamping a hand over her mouth. Because yeah, Blue is being completely, childishly unreasonable in staying awake and is kind of driving her a little crazy, but damn if she isn't managing to be heart-meltingly adorable at the same time, too.

It isn't fair in the slightest, but that, she supposes with a fond shake of her head, is love. So she's smiling when she sets the bottle down and climbs into the warmth below the covers; lifting the pillow enough that she can press a kiss to the tip of Blue's nose before settling down next to her. "You're such a dork."

"Yes?" Blue gives her a puzzled look, as if she just stated the most blatantly obvious fact in the history of anything. "What's your point?"

"Blunted, apparently," Piper chuckles; cradling that lovely face in both hands and tugging Blue in until she can kiss her properly, because _God,_ she loves this amazing, exhausting, occasionally infuriating woman. Everything about her, too, from the feel of her lips and the brush of the slow, contented sigh that warms her face, to the gentle hand that curls around the edge of her waist and then slips to the small of her back to pull her closer. She loves the warmth of her body and the taste of her mouth; that tiny little _sound_ Blue makes low in her throat that is soft and subtle but always manages to make her gut twist in all the good ways, and how even when Blue is driving her up a wall from not taking care of herself, it's because she _worries_ and _cares_ so much that everything else just falls by the wayside.

She loves how whenever they kiss, she can _tell_ that Blue tries to find one more thing that Piper enjoys - as if she's constructing a detailed list in her mind of _Ways to Turn Piper Wright into a Hormonal Mess 101_ \- whether it's the tender tracing of gentle fingers over her temple and into her hair that makes her sigh in contentment, the light, electric sting of even teeth to her lower lip that makes her gasp against Blue's mouth, or the slow rake of blunted nails across the small of her back that makes her whimper and _arch_ in an effort to be _closer._

Practice, they say, makes perfect, and _boy_ have they had a lot of practice at this so far. She's not sure if she'll _survive_ kissing Blue a year or even a month from now, but damn, she's looking forward to finding out.

Her favorite part, though, is when the intensity winds down; when those lips are still close enough to catch so, _so_ lightly on her own and she can feel the brush of Blue's nose against her skin; when Blue's heartbeat is pounding steadily below the hand that Piper has splayed across the center of her back; when there are careful fingers caressing the side of her face and those eyes are watching her like she's the only thing they ever want to see.

"Thank you," Blue murmurs, and cranes her neck enough for their mouths to meet in another soft press. "I just-" A sigh. "I really missed this. You."

"I'm right here, Blue." Piper cups one warm cheek and strokes her thumb slowly over the skin below Blue's eye. "Not going anywhere. Okay?" She waits for the small nod before she smiles; sliding her fingertips over soft skin and into silky hair so she can give the back of Blue's neck a gentle scratch in return for the curious touch slipping over her hip. "Though I gotta admit, I don't think I have the energy for anything more involved right now."

"What?" Blue pulls back enough for the tiny furrow in her brow to be visible even in the low light, and then – going by how her expression crumbles into one of outright heartbreak in the blink of an eye – catches her meaning. "Oh, Piper, no. Nonononono..." Her head ducks in again; enough that every syllable can be punctuated by tiny kisses that dot their way across Piper's face from her forehead to her chin. "That's not- _please_ don't think that's what I meant. I just-" Her nose presses lightly against Piper's cheekbone while a slow breath warms her skin. "I missed _this._ Seeing you smile, hearing you speak." Long fingers tangle carefully in her hair. "All I could do was watch and wait for _others_ to make you better, when-" There's the soft sound of a hard swallow, and Piper turns her head enough that she can press a lingering kiss to Blue's temple. "-when it was my fault you were sick."

Jesus. Piper pulls her best friend in tighter; until Blue's face is pressing into the crook of her shoulder and she can bend her neck enough to kiss the top of her head. No wonder Blue has been running herself ragged for so long, if this is what has been filling her head the entire time.

"That was _not_ your fault," she murmurs into silky hair and warm skin, and feels her heart ache at the hot, hitched breath. "Not one little bit, Blue; you hear me? How could it have been?"

"I should have _known,_ " Blue whispers hoarsely; her back as taut as steel under Piper's hands. "It makes _sense_ that you'd be different from someone like- like me or- or the people here because you grew up _on the surface_ and-"

"Stop that." Piper keeps her voice low and gentle even as she tugs Blue back; enough that she can push their foreheads together and catch those reddened eyes head on. "You _cannot_ account for every single detail, every single time, Blue. That's just not how it works; not even for you." There's wetness under her fingers when she wipes carefully at Blue's eyes, as well as a definite, emotional heat to that soft skin when she kisses it. "Baby..." Her chest clenches nervously at that word, but she remembers a murmured 'sweetheart' somewhere at the edge of her mind, and so goes with it because it's always felt right to her. "You're human. You can't think of everything, and that's _okay."_

"Not when it puts you at risk," is the low reply. "That is unacceptable."

Stubborn ass. Piper bites back a sigh and kisses the corner of Blue's mouth instead. "You _did not_ put me at risk."

"Piper, I _brought_ you here. I-"

"- at no point twisted my arm to do so," she rebuffs; gently, but firmly, and brushes a handful of soft hair back with careful fingers. "I _agreed_ to come with you, remember? So whatever happened and however unfortunate it was, it was an _accident_. Those just _happen."_ Her thumb traces a slow line across warm lips; light, but enough for her to feel the unconvinced twist that makes her replace the touch of her finger with that of her mouth. "Please stop beating yourself up over this," she whispers there, and watches the long lashes flutter shut. "I don't blame you, Blue; not in the slightest. But if you need to hear it..." One more soft kiss, and she waits for those watery eyes to be back on hers before completing her sentence. "I forgive you."

It's like a damn bursting open. Blue just completely _breaks down;_ curling into Piper's chest, clinging to her as if for dear life and crying so hard that she doesn't make a single sound. Piper, meanwhile, holds her as tightly as she can; shushes her and rocks her and kisses any spot that she can reach while her own eyes mist at the sheer amount of _guilt_ being released.

This, she guesses as she runs long, soothing strokes over that powerful, shaking back and presses her face into silky hair, is what has really been keeping Blue awake.

"It's okay, Blue," she whispers against the shell of one ear, and kisses it. "We're okay."

And finally, there is peace.


	49. Moment 049: Introductions

For at least a day after leaving the infirmary, Piper is pretty sure that they do nothing but sleep. She herself has only the foggiest of memories of half-waking to warm closeness; to the living cradle of long arms and longer legs that Blue usually surrounds her with, and of being effortlessly drawn back into peaceful sleep by the low sound of even breathing. This means, of course, that both of them are absolutely starving when they do rise fully, and this time Piper lets Blue talk _her_ into taking the time to freshen up while Blue herself ambles off in search of something to appease their growling stomachs.

The soft lull of _two_ voices when she turns off the shower therefore surprises her a little, but also gives her enough warning to make sure that she's properly dressed and as presentable as she can make herself before she leaves the bathroom.

"Didn't realize you were _that_ hungry, Blue," is what she says when she turns the corner to the little sitting area, and then has to hide a smile when Blue snorts into her own hand.

"Stop that." Long fingers come up to give the front of her shirt a reproving little tug, but the corner of Blue's mouth is twitching into an amused sort of wry smirk. "Unless you want me to make a joke about eating that _doesn't_ refer to cannibalism."

Well, _now_ she's definitely awake. And probably blushing, because she really wasn't expecting Blue to go directly for the vaguely-below-the-belt territory in front of someone else.

It says a lot about Blue's level of comfort with the third person in the room, though; a fact that is only enforced by how she's then gently tugged to a seat on the arm of the sofa next to Blue, with a familiar arm slipping around her waist to pull her close enough for their bodies to be brushing.

Interesting. Piper curls an arm around Blue's shoulders in turn, because even if she herself is a little leery of being this intimate in front of company, it's not nearly enough to be worth the effort of making Blue feel unsure by turning her away. Not around someone who Blue clearly feels uncommonly at ease with, going by how she seems perfectly content to sit there in her – to Piper – appealingly rumpled state of 'literally just woke up'.

So. "Hi." Piper sticks out the hand that isn't resting on Blue's shoulder as she studies their visitor – a fair-skinned, blonde woman who looks to be somewhere between twice Piper's age and half again Blue's – and guesses from the way the left-to-left handshake feels that they're probably both righties. "Piper Wright."

"Allie Filmore," comes the answer, alongside a smile. "I won't keep you from your dinner for long, Ms. Wright. I simply saw my son's favorite drawing buddy upright and alert for the first time in a while, and wanted to make sure she was alright."

"I'm _fine,"_ Blue groans, and rolls her eyes. "There was nothing wrong with me that a good night's rest didn't cure."

"It was actually closer to a good two days," is the wry reply, which carries a definite hint of parental reprimand that makes Blue give a half-hearted kind of glower. "Which isn't surprising after a week of not sleeping; much less eating. I can't run my infrastructure without a power source, either."

"You didn't even-" Piper stops herself there, and sighs at the sheepish look she's getting. It's news to her but really not that surprising, so she simply stands and collects one of the loaded plates from where she spotted them sitting on the desk – the one _not_ marked _P.W_ – and plops herself back down on the sofa's arm rest before settling the food in Blue's lap. "Eat," she then tells her. "Don't make me feed you by hand."

Blue flushes faintly but takes a forkful, and then – while chewing – neatly selects a chunk of meat which she holds out with an eloquently quirked eyebrow.

Piper eyes the offering, and tries not to think about the very entertained look they're currently getting from their visitor. "Eating your food isn't gonna make me chuck my guts up for the rest of the night, is it?"

"Nuh uh." Blue shakes her head, and swallows. "Not the meat products; just don't touch the vegetables unless they're from your own plate. They're the ones where you need less until your system's gotten used to them."

Huh. "'Kay." She takes the bite from Blue's fork and chews; not exactly minding the taste, but definitely finding it more bland than topside fare. "So why are you getting a higher dose, if we've eaten pretty much the same stuff upstairs?"

"Because what I get is about what I grew up with," is the reply; Blue securing and crunching a slice of purplish-red, veggie-looking thing that Piper can't even identify. "All I'm doing is boosting the levels I already have, even if they haven't been maintained for a while."

"Hm." Piper accepts another bite, and guesses that that makes sense. Fruits and vegetables _are_ part of the Commonwealth diet but don't provide near as much in terms of energy as meat does, which means that those who have ready access to it – such as the people of Diamond City – tend to eat far more meat than your average settler. Aside from that, she supposes that the vegetables here are probably very different from the ones on the surface, for one because they've been grown in an environment that's not nearly as heavy with radiation, and for another because they've probably been engineered to provide as much nutrition as possible.

She's tugged from her thoughts when Blue pokes her, and feels herself flush when the end result of a little more prodding is that Blue is sitting tailor-style between her legs; Piper still perching on the arm of the couch, but now with her socked feet on the cushions in front of Blue's knees and her arms wrapped loosely around her best friend's shoulders.

They're basically cuddling in an upright position, and while Piper can't claim to be entirely comfortable with doing so when they're not alone, she goes with it because it's clear that Blue isn't even thinking about it. It's something that speaks volumes of the regard she holds for Allie Filmore, who – to her credit – is simply watching them with a warmly amused sort of look.

"So." Piper clears her throat, and appreciates the understanding chuckle that ticks off a few more boxes in the 'okay' column in her mental, little black book of people. "Apart from the whole underground aspect, you guys are basically living like people did before the bombs?"

"As much as we're able," Allie agrees, with a considering cant of her head. "I'm sure we don't have near the amount of luxuries that the pre-war population did, but from what little I've personally seen of the surface world, I'd say we're better off than most."

Piper remembers raiders and ferals and mirelurks, and how a single journey that _wasn't_ interrupted by some amount of fighting for her life was odd enough to almost make her skin crawl. "So why aren't you helping them?"

"Politics and religion should never be discussed during meals," Blue interjects. "It's bad for your digestion."

"Doesn't count." Piper gives the nearby ear a little tweak. "You're the only one eating, remember?"

Blue cranes her head around enough for their eyes to meet, and just looks at her. "Which one of us only brought one plate over?"

"Blue, unless you want me to move, I'd have to balance my plate _on your head_. I don't think that's the best option."

"Hm." Blue sucks thoughtfully at the tines of her fork, and then nods. "Fair point. Carry on."

"Thank you." Piper swallows down a chuckle, and moves one hand up and around enough that she can give Blue's cheek a little pat. Then she rapidly yanks it back when even teeth snap at it, and now the laugh escapes. "God, you're a dork."

"Yup." The grin on Blue's face – not to mention how relaxed and playful she's being – is completely unprecedented around anyone outside of maybe three people (Nat and Piper herself being two of them), and Piper decides that she's definitely going to have to get to know Allie Filmore better; to find out exactly what it is that makes Blue so clearly at ease in her presence, when she's usually anything but.

Still. She returns her attention to their guest, and watches the fond way in which she shakes her head at them. "Mrs. Filmore?" Piper waits until their eyes meet, and then pauses. "Or is it 'doctor'?"

"Technically, my title is Dr. Filmore," is the answer. "Though I'm married to the other Dr. Filmore, so Allie is perfectly fine."

"Allie, then." Piper nods, and plays idly with the edge of Blue's short sleeve as she considers how to best approach this. Interviews, at least, is something that she has a lot of experience with. "What do you do here, exactly?"

"I'm head of the facilities division." One finger taps at the badge that sits at the right top of the yellow-striped lab coat that Allie wears; an orange circle with what looks like two overlaid humans in its center. "The people under my responsibility take care of everything that keeps the Institute running. Engineering, maintenance, life support, security and – when it's needed – the expansion of our premises."

"Ah." Piper settles her chin on the top of her best friend's head, and studies the woman across from her. "Why do I get the feeling that that's a thankless job?"

Allie chuckles. "Because that's usually how these things go," she answers, but sounds little more than wryly amused. "From what I gather, it's not unlike how the pre-war world viewed departments in charge of information technology. When everything is running smoothly, no one is commended because perfect service is the expected minimum. When something _isn't_ working, however, everyone is talking about it."

Piper can relate to that from her time in Diamond City alone. God help the people in charge of maintenance if the power goes out, but when it's back on and working as intended, the best they'll get for fixing the problem is an 'about time'.

Not fair in the slightest, she muses, and decides to give old Abbott and his crew a thank you in some form when she gets the chance.

"So how did you meet this one?" she wonders, and points a finger at Blue's chest.

"'This one' is sitting right here," comes the dry interjection. "You're already talking over my head in a literal sense. No need to add the figurative one."

"Sorry, babe." This time the term is a complete slip of the tongue, but all she feels in response is the subtle movement of Blue's back in an inaudibly hitched breath, and then the warm, affectionate curl of a hand around her own shin.

Blue doesn't mind. More than that, she _likes it_ , and that... is a completely awesome feeling that makes Piper really have to work at restraining the downright giddy smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.

Focus. "Alright; I'll ask you, then. How did you and Allie meet?"

The strong shoulder under her arms move in shrug. "I went around to meet all the division heads the first time I was here." Blue takes another forkful of veggies, and passes a third piece of meat up to Piper. "I ended up spending more time talking to Allie because she was the one I could make myself more immediately useful to."

There's a definite snort from the other end of the couch. "You mean that you walked in and solved in a single minute a problem that half my team had been working on for a week."

"Hrm."

Piper just presses her nose into the back of Blue's head and snickers, because she's definitely starting to see why Blue likes this woman. Enough that she's going to let the darker subjects slide at least for the moment.

Watching Blue blush is just entirely too much fun.


	50. Moment 050: Hot Coals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may read a little weird; there's a reason for that. Let me know if you find it. =P

The first time Piper walked through the halls of the Institute, she was a little too preoccupied to really notice a whole lot; mainly due to the fact that she was actually _there_ and – for that reason – more than just mildly freaking and very occupied with trying to act like that was _not_ the case. The second time was mere minutes after waking from a medically induced sleep that did a right poor job of making her feel rested, to the point where she had to actively concentrate in order to keep herself from bumping into things.

Her third time doing so, however (or fourth, maybe, if she counts the time where she was apparently _carried_ from their quarters to the infirmary – man, that's an embarrassing thought), is now; side by side with Blue now that both of them have out-slept their exhaustion, and taking as many good, long looks as possible as she tries to commit everything she sees to memory.

 _Everything_. Piper knows what a camera is, of course, but not only is a functioning one so rare that it could probably sell for half the cumulative worth of Diamond City, it's little more than a talking point to the wealthy even then, because what chance does a film canister have against nuclear radiation? Photography – as far as she's aware – hasn't been a thing for at least a century.

Sketches – detailed drawings, if the creator is talented and has enough practice – is the chief way in which the Commonwealth shares knowledge, because hardly everyone is literate. Piper herself has an old, slightly crumpled piece of paper depicting the view of Diamond City from the Upper Stands; drawn in her own hand, and now mostly making her think of how much she would love to see how close Blue could get to the view itself.

Eh. It's a fanciful thought but nothing mission critical, and so she pushes it from her mind when they enter the elevator; focusing instead on the absolute perfection of the curved, clear glass surrounding the little platform, and wondering what in the world would make someone come up with the idea of a _see-through_ elevator.

X-ray research, perhaps?

"Shaun should be waiting," Blue says; effectively securing her attention. "Are you _sure_ you're okay with being alone with him?"

Clearly, she's been keeping an eye on her, Piper thinks, and lets a small smile slip free because they have obviously gotten to the point of knowing each other so well that they can essentially read each other's minds. She's sure that Blue doesn't know _why_ she's nervous, but it's patently obvious that she can tell that she _is._

Experiencing the Institute is fascinating, but she's honest enough with herself to realize that the place as a whole creeps the hell out of her. That fear – the definition of this place being everything wrong and frightening in the world - is such an old part of her life and such a hard thing to let go of; this isn't a _safe place_ to her, outside of their quarters or anywhere that she doesn't have Blue to watch her back. It's a little childish and a little common sense mixed with a deep sort of bone-chilling fear that makes her hyper-alert of every single, tiny sound; especially with the knowledge that she'll be alone with the _leader_ of this place in a few, short minutes.

No, she isn't sure that she'll be okay. But she also knows that she will be of absolutely no use to Blue's proposed purpose here if she doesn't get past this, and hanging around small numbers of people that Blue seems to trust is probably a good way to start working towards that.

"Easy, old timer," is therefore all she says; catching Blue's hand as the elevator slows to a gentle stop and they both exit onto a higher, much less active floor. "I'll be fine," she then promises, once they've walked a few paces and the massive atrium is behind them.

"I'll come with you, if you want," is Blue's quiet offer. "Or wait outside."

Stubborn. Piper smiles, though, because offering to help even when she doesn't understand exactly what the problem _is_ is so typical of her best friend, and never fails to make her fall that little bit harder. Even if the fact that there's apparently still further to fall continues to surprise her.

"Could you _be_ any sweeter?" she wonders, and holds back a chuckle when Blue's expression twitches into one of puzzlement. "Hm. Maybe if I drizzled you in honey." Puzzlement, at this, turns into eye-rolling, very-put-upon-sigh-type exasperation as Blue picks up on the fact that she's being teased, and Piper lets the grin slip free when her ear is given a light, reproving tweak. "Seriously, Blue; I'll be fine. Okay?"

"Okay." There's still an arm curling around her shoulders, but Piper hardly minds that. "You're going to tell me what's going on at some point, right?"

Most likely sooner rater than later, Piper thinks. It isn't fair to keep Blue worrying, after all. She just needs to find a way to talk her _out_ of helping; or, more specifically, she needs to find a way of doing so that lets her explain _why_ she doesn't want the help.

"I will," is all she says out loud, and winds an arm around Blue's middle in return because the hallway is empty. "Soon as I get my head on straight."

"No rush," Blue murmurs, and now sounds a little embarrassed. "I just... I want to be in the loop. On how you're feeling." Pause, and a few more steps that echo faintly in the hallway. "What you're thinking."

God. Piper gives the side under her hand a slow stroke with the pad of her thumb, and feels the press of fingertips against her own shoulder in response. For someone as naturally quiet as Blue tends to be, she has a real gift for packing as much as she possibly can into very few words.

"I want you in the loop," she tells her, and lets their little half-hug stroll turn into a full-hug stand when they reach the end of the hall. "Try not to go too crazy worrying until I get this figured out?"

"No problem." Blue's low chuckle rumbles softly against her chest, and Piper presses closer when their lips brush lightly because _this_ – above all else on this earth – is her safe place, and if she is about to be left alone in _these_ surroundings, she needs the buffer. "Yell if you need me? I'll stay in hearing range, at least."

"Considering your ears, Blue, that's about from here to Quincy."

"Hrm." That earns her the faint wrinkle of Blue's nose as well a touch more color in her cheeks. "Still. Please?"

"Alright." Piper leans in for another short kiss because she can, and firmly tells her traitorous body to _calm the hell down_ when Blue's retreating footsteps echo faintly between the metal walls a few moments later.

Pah. The whole thing is completely nonsensical, and she knows that. So why can she not stop herself from _freaking out_ the second she's alone outside of their quarters? It's downright primal, the way her chest tightens and how her throat feels like it's about to close up; how her hands go clammy and she has to actively work to keep herself from hyperventilating, and _it doesn't make sense_ because even with everything she has learned of the Institute over the past years, her time here has at least proved that she genuinely has no reason to suspect any ill intentions aimed her way for the moment.

The panic buzzes through her system anyway, and it's only sheer cussedness that keeps her from either yelling for Blue or tearing off after her because _god dammit_ , she is _not_ going to succumb to this. She's stronger than that.

Even if there are spots dancing at the edges at her vision.

 _Relax_ , she reminds herself, and takes a forcibly slow, deep breath. _It's fine. Blue wouldn't leave you alone if she suspected the tiniest thing out of place._

Strangely – or perhaps not – that thought helps a little; a least enough that she can unclench her fingers and make her vision stop tunneling. While Blue might not have a lot of innate talent when it comes to reading people, the amount of protectiveness she seems to feel where Piper is concerned also means that she is taking absolutely zero chances in regards to her safety.

In short – Piper takes another long breath and feels the corner of her mouth quirks – buck the hell up and quit whining, Wright.

Xenophobia gone rampant not withstanding, this place is probably the best chance they have to turn things around for the Commonwealth, and while Blue's plan sounds far-fetched indeed to even Piper's admittedly biased ears, God knows that her best friend has pulled more unlikely results out of her proverbial hat before. So.

That should be enough to keep anyone stepping forward, yeah?

Yeah.


	51. Moment 051: Generation Gap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TIL: When I get stuck on this, I need to just _sit my ass down_ and play the game for a bit.
> 
> I was asked at some point exactly how I picture Blue, so when I sat my ass down, I started the game over and tried to create her. It ain't all-perfect all the time, but I spent way too much time taking screenshots, and [damned if I didn't manage to nail her](http://imgur.com/YNfsYn3) in one of them. Yes, the name is the one I have for her in my head, too.
> 
> Forewarning (for the image; not the chapter): I am _Scandinavian._

The director's office – or maybe his combined office/quarters, Piper thinks after a glance up a flight of stairs – is, in a word, huge. It's well lit, like any other part of the Institute that she's seen so far, and she spots several smaller rooms off to one side or the other, along with a good number of wide windows that look out to the main atrium.

It looks like it could serve very nicely indeed as family quarters, which strikes her as a little odd since she knows from Blue that Shaun is the only one actually living here. Power means placement, though – professionally as well as physically – so chances are that these quarters are for any chosen director, and switches inhabitants as the position does.

Having only one resident at the moment means that the space is almost eerily quiet, but also that what little sound there is is much easier to pinpoint; enough that she can continue through one large room, up a flight of stairs and around a corner until she sees a small sitting area, several file cabinets, and a lone desk with a single occupant.

Piper realizes belatedly that she has _no idea_ how to address him. 'Shaun' seems a touch too familiar considering their individual relations to the same person, and 'Father' is almost _excruciatingly_ weird for the exact same reason. So she settles for not picking one at all, and simply clears her throat before she remembers that maybe his official title of 'director' would have been a safe bet.

“Ah.” It's too late to make any changes when Shaun turns at the sound, and it is _so weird_ to see _Blue's eyes_ in _his face_ that she almost doesn't notice the small pill bottle that he slips into a drawer; all but out of her line of sight. “Miss Wright. Welcome.”

Diplomacy, Piper wonders, or bluntness?

Bluntness wins.

“Am I?”

Shaun pauses halfway through standing and blinks – clearly caught off guard – but it only lasts for half a second before he gives a short breath that sound like another-near silent laugh she knows very well, and _Jesus Christ_ she can even see Blue in the lines of his _body_ when he stands fully. It's in the span of his shoulders, the tapering of his torso and the length of his arms and legs; tall without truly towering, but still _seeming_ that way because everything about his frame is so _proportionate_.

Just like Blue.

There are differences, of course. His chest is wider, his chin – going by what she can tell from the neatly trimmed beard – is rounder and his nose a little more uneven. His eyebrows are spaced a fraction further apart, he's taller and surprisingly lean for his age, and this has _got_ to be in the top three weirdest moments of her life so far because one more thing that this man has in common with Blue is the aura he exudes; competence, intelligence and this odd, innate sense of almost-authority that's so strong that the word 'sir' is on the tip of her tongue.

Definitely weird. Piper just hopes that she doesn't look as knocked off stride as she suddenly feels, and firmly tells herself to ignore the fact that he even _walks_ like Blue when he approaches. All of these similarities to a person that she would trust with her life without a second's hesitation means that her immediate instinct is to trust _him_ , and while she _has_ promised herself to keep an open mind, that is _way_ too big of a leap for a long, long while yet.

She shakes his hand when it's offered, though, and meets the steady, head-on gaze that's yet _another_ similarity; calm and even and just a little calculating, as if he's looking at a puzzle that he doesn't quite know how to solve.

Blue gave her that look many a time, back when they'd first met.

“I must admit...” Shaun releases her hand in favor of slipping his own into the pocket of his lab coat, and uses his other to give his chin a little scratch. “I was expecting more than a few rounds of veiled, verbal jousting. You're certainly capable of that.”

Piper doesn't bother to deny it, and instead simply watches him. “So you do have spies in Diamond City?”

There's a tug at the corner of Shaun's mouth, as well as a faint duck of his head. “We have spies in every major settlement,” he acknowledges. “Some in high-ranking positions, and some merely common settlers.”

Christ. Piper pinches the bridge of her nose and takes a breath. “Why are you admitting this to me so easily?”

“Strategic reasons.” His footsteps are heavier than Blue's but the rhythm is the same, and Piper listens to them and lets her head just _spin_ for a moment before opening her eyes back up to see him now standing by a small counter; over a dispenser of some kind and two ceramic mugs. “I believe that it is in the best interest of both the Institute and the Commonwealth as a whole for my mother's strongest affiliation to be with us.” One mug is filled and set aside, and the other moved into place. “I also believe that she will have nothing to do with an organization that _you_ do not wish to be a part of.” He picks both mugs up, now, and gestures to the small seating area – a couch and a chair – with one hand. “Please. Sit.”

Piper approaches but doesn't actually _sit_ until he does – on the couch, which makes her take the chair - and she guesses that maybe that's the reason for him taking a sip from one of the mugs before offering it to her. Or maybe it's something he's been planning to do all along, to simply show her that the contents haven't been laced with anything.

Clearly, her distrust of the Institute is well known to this tiny (massive) part of it. But she takes the mug, even if she also makes sure to drink from the other side of it.

 _So_ fucking weird.

“Having that ultimate goal in mind,” Shaun continues. “It seems to me that if I wish to have that goal realized, I need to do what I can in order to ensure that your... distrust of us is eased as much as possible.”

There is one whopper of a headache building behind Piper's eyes right now, but she thinks tiredly that she really shouldn't have expected anything less. Everything about this particular section of Blue's life has been giving her migraines pretty much from day one.

Ah, well. Just another day at the office.

“How, exactly, do you propose to do that?” Piper asks, and settles a little more comfortably into her seat because she can at least respect the straightforward explanation. “In case you haven't heard, anyone born in at least the last 60 or so years have been raised to think of you guys as the devil.”

“A quaint expression,” Shaun muses; his fingers shaking ever so slightly until he folds them fully around his own mug. “But, I presume, an accurate one all the same.” He takes a long swallow and Piper lets him; watching as surreptitiously as possible as he gathers his thoughts while she, in turn, tries to center her own. “You have a family, yes? Friends. People you care for and would do anything in your power to protect?”

Nat, Blue, Nick... Piper runs through the list in her mind and figures that she has a pretty good idea of where this particular line of conversation is headed. “Most people do.”

“Most _decent_ people do,” is the wry correction.

“Decent people?” Her train of thought comes to a screeching halt at that line, and her blood roars to a boil in short enough time for that idea to fly right out the window. _“Decent people?”_ Every instance of pain in Blue's eyes all boils down to this one moment, and in spite of her earlier intentions to at least remain polite, Piper lets it. “You listen to me, you xenophobic fucktard, you do not get to say _word one_ about what decent people will or will not do.” Her mug hits the table with a _bang,_ and she watches Shaun blink and veer back as she herself abruptly straightens. “Decent people wouldn't kidnap and kill _actual_ , decent people in order to replace them with spies, puppeteers and murderers. Decent people wouldn't consider the trauma of human beings some sort of _experiment_ , and _decent people_ sure as shit wouldn't place mothers in front of synths disguised as their missing children, just to _see what the response would be!”_

“I as--”

“Shut.” Piper points a single finger at him. “Up. I don't give a molerat's asshole what value any of that gives to 'science' or the 'bettering of humanity', or whatever other crap you people spew in order to help yourselves sleep at night; the road to hell being paved with good intentions is a hoary, old saying for a _reason,_ and you, _Sir,_ are walking further down that road every single day. You created an entirely new race with the sole purpose of enslaving them; you willingly craft a reputation of cruelty and use it to your advantage to gain some sort of nightmarish control over the surface world; you knowingly sent _your own mother_ straight from the world she knew into one where she could get killed just as soon as looked at without any sort of preparation, and you have the _fucking nerve_ to sit here and talk to me about decency? _Fuck. You!_ ”

The last word has her voice rising to a loud bark that's bordering on a shout, and Piper shoves herself to her feet and stalks across the room to calm herself; shoving her hands though her hair more than running them, and taking several, deep breaths in an attempt to settle her racing heartbeat. Shaun, she senses somewhere at the edge of her consciousness, is watching her with something that crosses the border between intrigue and astonishment, and that more than anything else makes her heart ache for Blue' sake.

He really doesn't get it, does he?

Piper half-slumps back against a wall and scrubs a hand over her face as she sighs. She can, she supposes, sort of understand his mindset, if only in an abstract sort of way. If he has truly never left the Institute; if he was raised here and lived his entire life here, with all of his focus on intellectual pursuits and very little indeed on anything else, then... well, then it probably _would_ be very easy to slip into the belief that the end justifies the means; especially if he was an experiment himself more than an actual person, and so was never taught to truly relate to – or feel for – other people.

Shit. She blows out a breath and crosses her arms, but stays where she is as she watches him and makes a choice. “I don't really remember my mother,” she admits. “She died shortly after my little sister was born. I can't recall what she looked like, and I can only barely remember what her voice sounded like when I think of the lullabies she used to sing. Sucks, but that's life, y'know?”

“I suppose,” Shaun allows haltingly.

“My father died a few years later.” She has to clear her throat, now, because the memory of finding him is... yeah. “He tried to do the right thing and got his head blown off for his trouble. So--” A long breath. “-- Nat and I became orphans. I was thirteen, and the only relative left to care for a four year-old.” Her lips twitch into a smile that probably looks as sick as it feels. “I've seen the same thing happen to countless other kids, up there. They're all they've got, and they start stealing to feed themselves, which turns to killing to defend themselves, or in some cases to whoring themselves out because that's the only thing they _can_ do. There are people willing to pay their way into a child's pants, and it's at least a little better than waiting to be found by some sick fuck who'll just take what they want.”

“I was lucky.” Piper pushes off the wall and steps over to the dispenser; filling a new mug since the contents of her original one have been spattered over most of the table, and very carefully _not_ looking at the man she's talking to. “I was living in a small, tight-knit community that took care of its own, and my folks had at least taught me basic skills like reading and writing. I was also old enough to be trusted with other stuff like cooking, sewing or working a small field, so I had means of making a living that didn't include spending time on my back.”

“If I may,” Shaun interrupts; his voice gentler than Piper's ever heard it, though she admittedly doesn't have a whole lot to go on in that regard. “Exactly what happened to your father?”

“He figured out that the man in charge of the settlement's defenses was going to sell us out to a group of raiders.” She secures the filled mug and takes a moment to study its contents; not coffee like she knows it from up topside, but dark and steaming and smelling about like the right stuff. “Leave the gate open, take a payday and walk off while we were slaughtered.” A sip, and she turns in place; leaning back against the counter and meeting Shaun's eyes. “He'd get what he wanted out of the bargain, so to hell with anyone else, right?”

Not exactly a subtle barb. But going by the flinch in those very familiar eyes, it still manages to hit its mark.

“And yet...” Shaun rests his elbows on his knees and studies her. “You continue to feel that with all the evil in the Commonwealth, it remains something worth fighting for.”

“Yes.” She meets his gaze without wavering. “There's way more evil up there than any one place should have, but if I write off the Commonwealth based only on that, then I'm doing a serious disservice to all the decent people who want to make it _better._ ”

“And you feel that this... making it better, that this is an option?”

“Anyone who feels that improving the world isn't an option may as well just lay down and wait for death,” Piper tells him bluntly. “We can all make some kind of change for the better; even by the smallest of margins.”

“I see.” Shaun settles back in his seat, and Piper watches him watch her while she sips her coffee. “Well, I can certainly admire your dedication, Miss Wright,” he eventually says; one hand lifting and then falling again, and the other staying up to scratch at his beard. “But in all honesty, how much of a difference can one decent person do against this amount of corruption?”

“Oh, you'd be surprised.” Piper chuckles into her mug.. “One person can get a corrupt guard captain kicked out on his ass and give a settlement time to save itself, for one; all by refusing to be ignored. One person can...” She watches the window across from her, and smiles faintly; genuinely, this time. “Restore the Minutemen, bit by bit. Inspire courage and hope in others. Be a true friend to those who need it most. Clear threats from increasingly large patches of the Commonwealth.” Pause. “Become a symbol; so much that she's bordering on being a living legend.”

Shaun is simply watching her, but now, it's with a more considering look that makes it seem to Piper like he's actually _thinking about_ what he's hearing, rather than merely listening to it.

That, Piper thinks, is at least something. “You have no earthly clue just how amazing she really is,” she tells him softy. “As far as I can tell, you don't even care. And that – more than anything – is why it pisses me off that you continue to throw her in over her head, because you give her all of the cane, and none of the carrot. She doesn't deserve that.”

He watches her some more, but again, the look changes; now to one that reminds Piper mostly of how Blue looked the very first time she saw her. Uncertain and off-kilter, but doing her utmost to hide it; someone so very clearly in over their head, and trying their darnedest to teach themselves how to swim before the undertow could drag them away. She has to work to pull that expression up in her mind's eye, too, because she got so brief a look at it; back when Blue was nothing more to her than a passing – if intriguing – wastelander who was a useful acquaintance in more ways than one.

She remembers passing on the invitation to her office even as she started composing questions in her head, and then saw neither hair nor hide of the strange woman for well over a week; long enough that she'd given the project up and started working on others, and then... then Blue had walked back in, with her eyes a little harder, her shoulders further back and her chin a little higher.

Weathered, perhaps, by the wasteland and whatever she'd gotten up to in the intervening time. Certainly more used to Commonwealth life, and therefore more confident in her own place in it and in her determination to do what she could to turn things around. And that, Piper remembers, was the moment where her mental description of Blue had changed from 'wastelander' to 'survivor'.

She really needs to ask Blue what the hell happened during that week, now that she thinks about it. For now, though, she takes another mouthful of coffee and hopes that she's managed to drive her points home with Blue's son.

There, but for the grace of God.

“I assure you, Miss Wright, I do care,” Shaun sighs, and when he brings up two slightly shaking fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose, Piper finds it in herself to feel some sympathy for him. “It was never my intention to--” Another sigh; longer this time. “I fear that I was of the ill-informed fact that my mother likes a challenge.”

“She does,” Piper agrees gently. “And she'll happily walk barefooted through hell and back if it helps others, but you need to show her that you _appreciate_ it. Not with titles, or quarters, or shiny new guns. _Talk_ to her. Let her know you.”

“This all feels terribly personal and not a little uncomfortable,” Shaun admits wryly. “I frankly... well, I wouldn't know how to begin.”

That, she supposes, is fair enough. “You could start by inviting her to work with you,” Piper muses. “Explain what you're doing and where you're stuck; what – if anything – frustrates you about it, and why. That should be a safe enough starting point, right?”

The fact that it would also work in his favor if Blue's theory about him wanting her high up the Institute's hierarchy is correct, of course, she doesn't mention.

“Hm.” Shaun grunts, but the lines of his shoulders also loosen. “I suppose it would. Thank you, Miss Wright. I will... take that under advisement.”

“That's all I'm asking.” Piper refills her mug from the dispenser, and then retakes her seat in the chair. “Now. You mentioned something about easing my distrust of the Institute?”

“So I did.” It's easily visible how much the change of subject relaxes Shaun, from the lessening tension around his eyes right down to the way his fingers clasp _loosely_ in his lap as he leans back into the couch. “I was hoping that by providing you with what information I can on our organization, I could perhaps provide some insight into how we became the--” His lips twitch. “-- ''xenophobic fucktards' you know us as.”

Piper chuckles, and settles in.

 


	52. Moment 052: Back and Forth

By the time she makes her way to the exit of the director's quarters, Piper has been given – _freely_ – more information about the Institute in the span of maybe two hours than she has been able to unearth in actual _years_ of travel and research and interviews. That doesn't even include the databases that she has apparently been given access to from the so-far little used terminal in their quarters, and Piper mostly hopes that the information overload that's making her head pound in time with her heartbeat hasn't also overwritten her memory of how to get _back_ to those quarters.

Everything is going all topsy-turvy to the point where she can barely tell left from right or up from down, and she suddenly wants nothing more than the simple peace of Blue's arms. It isn't _panic_ , but it _is_ something that makes her steps quicken further the closer she gets to the door; makes her head ache even _more_ when the thought that their quarters might be _empty_ hits her, and she really just wants to find Blue...

… who is leaning against the wall not five feet from the door when it slides open, and Piper doesn't even know why the sight surprises her.

“You know something?” she asks, and sets one hand on her hip.

Blue's gives her brief, puzzled look before her eyes narrow in consideration. “I... know several things,” she answers thoughtfully. “Could you be more specific?”

Piper is caught somewhere between laughter, exasperation and overwhelming affection, and so simply walks over to Blue, pinches her side and muffles the soft, startled sound with her own mouth. “You're hopeless.” Another kiss. “And perfect.”

The affection must be winning out in her voice, because Blue chuckles. “I'll argue the last point later, but regardless; only with you.”

“Hrmph.” She wraps her arms around those sturdy shoulders while that familiar hold circles her in return, and sinks into a hug that makes it woozily, wonderfully impossible to tell where Blue ends and she begins. The fact Blue was able to anticipate that Piper would need exactly this, of course, is just one of the thousand, tiny things that makes her best friend so inescapably magical. “Better be.”

“Hopeless or perfect?” comes the question, along with the slow, gentle scratch of rounded nails over the back of her skull. “Or either, but only with you?”

“Dork.” Piper learned long ago that the standard answer to _that_ is essentially 'duh', and so catches those warm lips on her own before they can shape it. Right there in an empty, Institute hallway; a slow, soft kiss that lingers and deepens until they're both of out breath, and that fact probably says more than anything else ever could about what Blue's presence does to her stress levels. “The last one.”

“Uh...” The fact that that steel-trap mind actually has to take a second to _catch up_ , Piper thinks with a small smile as she watches the long lashes flutter, probably says a lot too. “Well, I'll certainly do my best.”

“Hm.” She catches Blue's hand as they start walking, and twines their fingers. “In that case, we're golden,” she decides idly, and swallows a chuckle at the scoff. “Hey; I've _seen_ your 'best', old-timer. You can turn the entire Commonwealth on its head; what's a little continued perfection for my sake?”

Blue sends her a sidelong glance. “You have an almost worrying amount of faith in my ability to pull rabbits from my unmentionables.”

Piper almost trips over her own feet as she tries to work _that_ one out. “I'm sorry; your ability to _what?”_

The immediate response is a snicker; which, Piper supposes, is fair enough given what her expression probably looks like. “Stage magicians used to pull rabbits from their hats, back in my day,” Blue explains. “But off-stage, achieving something particularly unlikely was more commonly known as pulling that rabbit from somewhere _else.”_ Her lips twitch. “At least among the people I spent time with.”

“Aha.” She mulls over that one while they turn a corner, and finds that subject a much more palatable to one consider, rather than the time she just spent with Shaun. “So did you manage to pull any other small, furry critters from your backside while I was in conference, or did you spend your time waiting outside the door?”

“Maybe,” is the answer; followed almost immediately by: “The first one, I mean.” Blue exchanges a nod with a passing... synth? Piper is still getting used to the different uniforms and what they signify. “I _do_ listen when you ask something of me--” Piper's eye-roll nets her a gentle shoulder-check. “-- so I didn't wait outside the entire time. I ended up at Advanced Systems because I pitched an idea to Dr. Li when we first go here. Before you--”

“Got sick,” Piper completes gently, and gives the hand in her own a little squeeze because that's still a sore subject where her best friend is concerned. “I'm guessing she took to it and you went to check on the progress?” She watches Blue nod as they start up a flight of stairs. “'Kay. So what's it about?”

This answer is a while in coming, but Piper recognizes the halfway-inwards gaze that means that Blue is simply trying to order her thoughts to provide the simplest, briefest explanation possible. A habit, Piper guesses, since that's usually the best route to choose with _her._ A long presentation will invariably have Blue's attention drifting to something more immediately interesting, and Piper learned long ago that if she wants Blue's input on something, she needs to condense the problem as much as possible. In return she'll get maybe a few clarifying questions and a proposed solution sometimes in a matter of minutes, which is certainly worth the time spent narrowing what can be very complex things into very basic terms.

“Remember the walkie-talkie?”

“Sure.” She lets Blue slip around her to press a palm against the plate set into the wall outside their quarters. “Or rather, I remember you telling me about it; not so much the actual thing.”

The door slides open after a low beep, and Blue gives her a wry look as Piper tugs her inside. “Clearly, I'm a bad influence on you.”

“Heh.” The low hiss of the door shutting behind them still comes with some odd, indefinable measure of peace, and Piper sets a corner of her mind to puzzling over that, too. Maybe because while they _are_ still in the Institute, this space is one she's come to know as theirs? “Trust me; exactly which one of us is the worse influence on the other will depend heavily on who is being asked.”

“Uh huh.” Blue sneaks a kiss to her cheek while slipping the heavy shirt from Piper's shoulders – layers, to ward off the slight chill in the air so far underground - and then ambles off to store both that and her own lab coat. “Anyway, radio communication doesn't really seem to be a thing these days. Even the Brotherhood doesn't have anything truly similar to what Nate used when he was on active duty, which struck me as a little odd since it was common enough to be used as children's toys before the war, you know?”

Piper doesn't really _know,_ but she can at least make a loosely qualified guess, and tries to do so as she drops to a seat on the sofa and feels the weight of the preceding hours slip from her shoulders. “It is a weird thought,” she muses; aiming gaze and voice both at the innocuous, white ceiling while she listens to Blue putter around. “I mean, power armor survived. We still _have_ radio, too, but only of the kind that DCR uses, near as I know.”

“Mm.” There's the soft sound of footsteps, and then the cushion by Piper's side dips under a familiar weight. “One-way transmission, instead of two-way. And that's useful for a lot of things, but also really lacking in a very critical area.”

“Actual communication.” Their quarters aren't as chilly as the Institute at large, but Piper still appreciates the arm that slips around her and the warm body it pulls her into. “Of the kind that would have people out in the wasteland actually be able to _talk_ to people back at base, rather than just receive orders or send very belated pleas for help.”

“Yup.” Blue settles back into the corner between backrest and armrest, and hums softly when Piper leans into her. “Or the kind that would let two different teams plan their next move without having to meet up face to face.”

“Which would be especially useful for the Institute's coursers,” Piper notes; finishing the thought and quirking an eyebrow at the crafty little smirk that lets her know she's hit the nail on the head. “Sneaky, Blue. Veeeery sneaky.” The low, satisfied chuckle makes her smile. “So when's it gonna be ready?”

“It kind of already is,” is the halfway bemused admission; with Blue's hand slipping onto Piper's back to give the center of her spine a little scratch. “Dr. Li is nothing is nothing if not efficient, so while it isn't production-line ready, it's ready for real-world testing. Enough that we can see what kind of range we can get out of it, and figure out whether or not it'll work for two-way comms even between the surface and here.”

“Hm.” Piper nestles closer and slides a hand under the edge of soft cotton and onto softer skin, just for the pleasure of feeling it. “You think it will?”

Blue smiles against her temple. “With the biggest brain trust in the Commonwealth on the case? I think it just might.” She shifts again; scooting down further until she's laying on her back and can tug Piper into place on top of her; something that still makes her stomach twist uneasily because that one night at the castle is seared into her memory.

She'll deal, though. Blue clearly doesn't mind – outright _wants_ the closeness, in fact – so Piper can work to get over her own, self-induced hangups. Two to tango and all.

“Hey.” A touch to her face – warm and lingering – and the gentle brush of a thumb over her cheek when their eyes meet. “It's okay.”

Piper settles herself on one elbow and eyes her. “You reading my mind again?”

“Your facial muscles, actually, but close enough,” Blue agrees peacefully, and then gives her nose a little tweak. “The whole talking to each other thing is still on the table, though. Can you... maybe try to explain to me why this--” A hand slips down her side, indicating their position. “-- bothers you as much as it does?"

Well, that's certainly a fair request. Piper sets her head in one hand and watches the fingers of her other fiddle with the short sleeve of Blue's simple t-shirt; fixing the bit where the fabric has folded inside out and then letting her hand curl loosely around the relaxed bicep beneath the warm skin. “It's not being on top of you that bothers me,” she admits quietly, and closes her eyes when familiar fingers carefully settle a few locks of hair behind her ear. “It's more what it makes me think of.”

“That night at the castle?”

“Yeah.” She takes a breath, but finds a smile when those fingers give the back of her neck a gentle rub. “That... scared me somewhere real deep, Blue. I didn't think I'd ever just--” Another breath that turns into a sigh, and her eyes slip open to see Blue watching her patiently. “I don't want to be that kind of person, y'know?”

“You're not.” Blue's eyes are warm but certain, and her fingers slip just below the back of Piper's collar to stroke the top of her spine. “I wanted that, remember? And even if I hadn't – even if I wasn't perfectly capable of _physically_ stopping you if I'd felt the need to – you would have stopped the second I asked you to.”

Piper wrinkles her nose, because as much as that belief warms her, it also kind of hurts to hear it. Mostly because she doesn't share it. “Do you really know that, though?”

“Yes.” Low and soft, but completely assured. “Piper, I _trust you._ Implicitly, and with everything.” A gentle finger to her lips stops her before she can speak. “Please don't ask me not to, because I can't. You've earned every inch of that trust, and I'm not taking it back.”

Considering that she has the exact same kind of trust in Blue for the exact same reasons, there's not really much Piper can say to argue with that. Instead, she kisses her; softly and deliberately, and lets it be both for the simple, crucial pleasure of feeling those lips against her own, as well as another small push to help herself to move past this.

Not for long, though, and not too involved.

Baby steps.

She wants to ask her if she's _sure_ – gently breaks the kiss to do just that, in fact - but those eyes are so _close_ and all she can see. So instead, she searches them for the answer; looks for the tiniest hint of doubt or the faintest sign of any wall keeping her out, because at this distance, Blue couldn't hide a hangnail from her.

She finds none. No walls and no doubts; just a soft, warm glow and an absolute, rock-solid belief that makes her stomach do backflips while her heart races circles around the inside of her chest, and she has to close her suddenly burning eyes because _God,_ what a gift that is. It robs her of the ability to speak – hell, to _breathe_ – for a long, dizzying moment, and just for an instant, she has no reservations about sinking into Blue's arms; about pressing her face into warm skin and soft fabric, or about feeling the secure hold around her back and the press of lips against her temple.

It's at once both immeasurably peaceful and heart-stoppingly intense, and Piper has to take several seconds to just _feel_ before she can manage to get her wits about her; before she can get her breathing back to its normal rhythm and focus on the powerful heartbeat thumping steadily under her ear, and wryly realize that she needs to change the subject before one them – probably her – starts crying outright.

So she takes a deep breath, and rubs the pad of her thumb over the soft skin on the inside of the arm she's still holding on to. “I should probably tell you that I kinda went off on Shaun.”

Blue gives a sudden, startled kind of chuckle, but rolls with it. “Ouch. Better him than me.” Piper's reaction to _that_ response must show on her face when she raises it, because there's the slow trace of a fingertip along the arch of her eyebrow before Blue purses her lips. “Surprise,” she then decides; as if to herself. “Were you expecting me to be upset with you for yelling at him?”

“... maybe a little, yeah,” she admits with a quirk of her lips. “I wasn't expecting you to be amused by the idea, anyway.”

“Mm, maybe not amused,” Blue allows, and cards a hand through Piper's hair in a way that always makes her scalp tingle. “Grateful's probably better.”

Say what? “You're grateful that I _yelled at your son?”_

“I'm guessing you told him some hard truths,” is the wry response. “Ones that _I_ can't tell him yet because I'm not in a position that allows me to do so; at least not without potentially destroying what little familiarity I have with him.”

Piper spends a second or two simply studying her, and then slips her hand down one long arm until she can catch Blue's hand and brush her lips against the base of her palm. “Then you're welcome, I guess,” she decides bemusedly, and goes along when Blue shifts until they're laying on their sides facing each other; closely so, since the couch isn't  _that_ deep. “I thought you were supposed to be bad at people?”

“I am _exceedingly_ bad at 'people',” Blue agrees easily, though she does so with glimmer of dry humor in her eyes. “But I also have a basic understanding of psychology because that was a really useful thing for a lawyer to have.” She curls an arm under her own head, and her other hand finds the edge of Piper's waist and settles there. “When I'm dealing with situations like the one I'm in with Shaun, it at least helps me figure out when to shut up.  So yes; grateful.” There's a tug at the corner of Blue's mouth that pulls it into that familiar, half-smirk. “Both for the fact that you told him off when I couldn't, and for the fact that you weren't mad at _me,_ for whatever reason. You're scary when you're angry.”

“Oh, come on.” Piper tries to choke the snicker back, but doesn't quite succeed. “I'm sure I'm about as threatening as a teething puppy.”

“I'm sure you're wrong,” Blue tells her; eyes serious, and lips shaping a crooked smile. “I've seen you pissed off. I'd rather take my chances with the mirelurk queen.”

That memory is still enough to make her shiver, but she manages to wrestle it down to a simple grimace. “I'd really rather you didn't.”

“Mm; that makes two of us.” The hand on her waist slips further; moving onto her back until Blue can tug her into what's basically a full-body hug. Probably a good thing, since the couch _really_ isn't that deep and sure wasn't built with two prone adults in mind. “Guess I'd better not piss you off, then.”

“Good idea.” Piper sends her a fondly exasperated look. “You're still a colossal dork, though.”

“Yeah.” Blue moves the shoulder she isn't resting on in an unconcerned shrug. “But I'm your dork.”

For a long moment, her breathing simply _stops,_ and then starts again in way that has even the processed air within the Institute's walls suddenly tasting that little bit sweeter. “That was an amazingly sappy thing to say, Blue.”

“Probably,” is the quiet answer, with the hand on her back splaying its fingers wide; as if Blue wants to touch as much of her as possible. “Do you mind?”

“No; not at all.” Piper breathes and feel Blue do the same; close enough that she can sense the movement of her ribs and feel the gentle warmth of her exhales while those eyes become her entire world. “Unless you mind me returning the favor?”

“No.” Blue's smile is impossibly gentle, and her eyes are absolutely lit from within by a glow that warms Piper from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. “Not at all.”

 


	53. Moment 053: Call for Caution

As it turns out, the method Dr. Li and her staff have found of providing two-way radio communication is via an addition to the existing courser chip; a fact that means that Blue loses her Pip-Boy for a few days since getting to the one in there is a lot simpler than getting to one in a working courser's head, and the Institute scientists are leery of incorporating the device into any coursers under construction until it's been proven to actually work. Blue, then, will be the tester on the surface since she's a lot less likely to attract negative attention than a wandering courser; a fact that Piper is somewhat guiltily glad of, since that will have the two of them back to the familiar activity of roaming the wasteland for a little while.

One courser will still need to have the modification done for proper testing, though, and Piper feels a lot less worried about the potential advantage they're providing this faction with when the one selected is X6-88; a courser who – according to Blue – is under _her_ executive control rather than the Institute's, and who has apparently been on guard duty outside their quarters more often than not.

As certain as Blue is that they're safe here, apparently, she still feels better with that little bit of extra security. Piper isn't sure how she feels about basically having a courser for a bodyguard – the irony of it is almost delicious – but she's willing to take the time they spend topside to think about it, and revisit the subject after she's had a chance to clear her head with some good ol' wasteland air.

“You ready?” Blue's voice pulls her from her thoughts, and Piper turns her head to see her standing in the doorway to the bedroom; a sight that's enough to make her smile in pure reflex.

Her best friend really does amazing things to a vault suit and some armor, and since they've both dressed in clothing provided by the Institute during their time here - Blue usually in slacks and a lab coat and Piper in something a little more casual - it's been far too long since she last saw her wear it.

“Pretty much.” She gives her scarf a little tweak and closes the top button in her trench coat, and then gives her pistol a quick once-over before slipping it into place by her waist. “Looking good, Blue.”

Blue chuckles. “You mean I look like a walking pile of trouble,” she translates dryly; sliding her rifle and shotgun on her back before securing her own pistol.

“Well, yeah.” It takes a bit of looking since she hasn't worn it since they got here, but she manages to find her press cap. “You know how I feel about trouble, dontcha?”

“I know you attract it,” is the answer; Blue's mouth twitching into a smirk that Piper can just barely see even when she half-turns. “Like stingwings to a blood sac.”

“Charming.” Piper steps close enough that she can catch the loose strap just barely escaping one arm-piece, and feels Blue still as she tucks it into place. “But probably true. I attracted you, anyway.”

“Exactly.” She gets an amused look from over one shoulder, as well as a grin when she pokes her tongue out in response. “And since I attracted _you,_ I guess we're both magnets for trouble.”

“Yep.” Her hand is caught in a gentle, familiar grip, and Piper lets herself be led out of their quarters and down the hall. “So. Since you're definitely the more educated one, do two magnets cancel each other out, or do you just get twice the power of attraction?”

“Hm.” Blue seems to consider that; her gaze going a little unfocused and her lips pursing faintly as they make their way up towards the relay room. “Depends on the magnets and their polarities, I think, though the sciences were never really my strongest subjects.” Her thumb gives the back of Piper's hand a slow stroke. “But given our history, I think ours is a case of the latter.”

That, Piper privately considers, is probably true. Granted, she isn't sure if it's a matter of them actually _attracting_ trouble or more about how they tend to seek out situations that most others would actively avoid; the finest example of which – of course – is affiliating themselves with the Institute and teaming up with one of its coursers. X6, at least, will be staying behind at this point; playing the underground testing point to Blue's above ground one.

As such, relaying to the surface is something that she and Blue do alone. They land – from what Piper can somewhat dizzily tell – in the northern parts of the Commonwealth; on the outskirts of Lexington, and in view of the Corvega Assembly Plant that she remembers Blue telling her about clearing with Codsworth's help. It's much brighter up here than in the artificially lit hallways of the Institute, and the mid-April sun is both high and warm enough that Piper has to undo her trench coat by a few buttons and pack away her scarf, while Blue is limited to grimacing and unzipping her jumpsuit to her sternum.

“Oh, this should be fun over summer,” she grumbles; tugging at the heavy fabric before lifting her hair away from the back of her neck for some amount of relief. “You might want to avoid staying downwind whenever possible. I'm sweating already.”

“You're the one who added extra insulation to it,” Piper points out, and has to hide a smile at the sour look that tells her that Blue doesn't appreciate the reminder. She does have a small supply of old hairbands in her pocket, though, so she frees one of them and steps up behind her best friend; carefully gathering up the long strands of soft hair and tying them into a low ponytail that will at least allow a little more air to reach the back of Blue's neck. “Besides, I like the way you smell.”

“Mmhm.” Blue sounds anything but convinced, but the corner of her mouth is quirking when she turns to face her. “Say that again when I've been running around like this for a week without getting a chance to shower.”

“Okay.” The sharply arched eyebrow just makes her arch one right back. “Hey; I seem to remember someone telling _me_ that they wouldn't care if I was covered head to toe in brahmin muck.”

Blue flushes lightly, but also gives her a small, sheepish smile in response. “Yeah, I guess I did say that.”

“Uh huh. So deal.” Piper gives her stomach a little pat. “Now how is this testing thing gonna work?”

“Ah, right. Well...” Blue shifts until they're standing side by side, and lifts her left hand enough that they can both see the display on her Pip-Boy as she flicks through the menus; the last of which is simply labeled _MD_ , since it used to only hold the two ways she has of using the molecular dematerializer. Now, it has an additional four options besides the original _R1_ and _R2_ ; _G1, G2, G3_ and _CA._ “Generations one, two, three, and courser assistance,” Blue explains; clicking through them as she speaks, but not actually activating anything. “I really want to get eyes on the systems they use for comms, because according to Dr. Li, I should technically be able to send a message to a specific Gen 3 synth this way; just by selecting that generation's frequency--” A single finger points to the _G3_ line. “-- and using a few keywords.”

“Useful,” Piper concedes; settling one hand at the small of Blue's back as she peers at the small screen. “They wouldn't be able to answer, though. Right?”

“Right.” Blue shifts a little closer; enough for their shoulders to brush, and smiles. “Only synths with the modification installed would be able to actually talk back, but we're still using the classical radio station as the carrier signal, so I could – theoretically – send a message to Nick, for instance, and have only him be able to actually hear it.”

“Via the Gen 2 option, I'm guessing?”

“Mm.” A nod, and Blue is tilting her arm a little; enough that she can aim the edge of the Pip-Boy towards Piper and point to the side of the dial. “The speaker for responses – if there were any – is the same one we use for listening to the radio, but the microphone has been set here. That doesn't actually work until we activate a frequency, though.”

In spite of her continued reservations about the Institute as a whole, Piper has to admit that this is some seriously impressive work; especially since Blue handed over her Pip-Boy for all of maybe three days. “Alright. So to try and reach X6, you'd activate the CA option?”

“Yup.” She can see the motion of Blue nodding at the corner of her eye, and in her direct field of vision, the faint movement of those long fingers as the option in question is selected and activated; causing a small spurt of static that Piper guesses to be the microphone turning on. “So let's try it.” Blue frowns for a brief moment, and then takes a breath. “Initiate communication. Encrypted message; fixed recipient. Unit designation: X6-88. Can you hear me, and at which quality?”

“ _Reading you, Ma'am.”_ The response makes them both jump. _“Quality is acceptable.”_

Blue gives a startled, breathless little laugh. “Well, I'll be a monkey's uncle,” she murmurs, and gives her head a bemused shake. “Alright; we're gonna head further away,” she then says; now in a normal tone. “Let's see how far the signal will reach.”

“ _Acknowledged,”_ comes the answer. _“X6-88 out.”_

Long-distance, two-way communication as an actual option. Piper feels a little out of breath herself when the she considers the possible impact; information exchanged without needing to travel for hours or days, connections with family or friends across the Commonwealth, warnings well ahead of time if danger is approaching.

Not yet, of course, but in time... if this can be made publicly available? The potential consequences are staggering.

“You know...” Blue clicks out of the menu to kill the signal, and Piper watches her peer out across the wasteland. “I thought they were either nuts or ludicrously optimistic to pick an initial testing spot this far away. It would have been a safer bet to to do this in the CIT ruins.”

“Mm.” Piper gives her lower back a slow rub, because she'd considered as much herself. “Well, whether it was insanity or optimism, it sure paid off.”

“Sure did.” For a long moment, they just stand there in a peaceful silence broken only by the slow whoosh of the warm breeze; Blue's arm curling around Piper's lower back and Piper slipping an arm around her shoulders in turn. Then, Blue chuckles. “Guess there's nothing you can't do with a little duct tape and a whole lot of brain cells.”

“Guess not.” Piper tugs them into a walk and guides them in the general direction of north, since that's about the only way to go that'll take them further away. At least it should make for some peaceful traveling. “So why haven't they done it before?” she wonders; halfway to herself. “It's not like they don't have the tech or the brainpower.”

“Good question.” She feels Blue's thumb find purchase in the cinch around her waist, as well as the light, welcome tightening of the arm around her back. “I'm thinking that... they probably didn't really need it? I mean--” Blue steers them around a large rock. “-- they've probably felt pretty in control until very recently. Until the Brotherhood arrived, and until the Railroad started really making themselves known to them.”

“I guess that makes sense.” Much as she loves it, walking like this is difficult on even ground, and no less easier on terrain as jagged as this. So, somewhat regretfully, Piper replaces their easy hold on each other with a clasp of their hands and a light bump of their shoulders. “And, of course, someone brilliant had to actually _give_ them the idea.”

“Or just someone who remembers it,” is the wry response to that; followed by a tug at her hand. “Mind I if borrow my arm for a second? I haven't had the chance to check on the Minutemen since we were last up here.”

Piper chuckles, and releases her. “Go right ahead, General.”

Blue pulls a face at the title – something she'd never do around the people who gave it to her – and gives her head a little shake as she clicks over to the right menu and tunes into Radio Freedom. Soon enough, the familiar music fills the quiet around them, and Piper's hand is happily reclaimed as they resume their northbound trek.

At least for a few minutes.

“ _It's two o'clock and all is well,”_ the radio announcer tells them as the latest piece fades. _“Should the General be listening, there's a mutual friend camping out at the place you first met. I'm sure he'd appreciate the chance to talk.”_

They both pause, and Blue lifts her left arm until she can frown at her Pip-Boy's display. Uselessly, since the music has now cheerfully resumed. “That was... vague,” she notes, with a puzzled, little lift of her eyes to Piper's.

“Probably a reason for that,” Piper muses, and sucks briefly at her lower lip. There is, at least, a limit to how many mutual friends Blue and the radio announcer could have, though she can't claim to like the apparent need for secrecy. “Where did you say you first met Preston? Concord, wasn't it?”

“Yes.” Blue seems equally disquieted by the vague message; not terribly surprising, since Radio Freedom has been both clear and direct in any previous transmissions meant for her ears. “The old museum of freedom, by the church.” As if by instinct, her left hand drops to the pistol at her side; fingers folding loosely around the grip. “You think it's him? There?”

“I can't think of anyone else it _could_ be.” Piper shrugs one shoulder, and feels a part of her mind already worrying at the situation; trying to figure out the angles of what in the world has him trying to reach out in this way as her stomach tightens in concern. “Not through that channel, anyway.”

“No.” Blue sighs and glances around as if to orient herself, and then adjusts their direction. “I guess we're going to Concord.”

“I guess we are.”

 


	54. Moment 054: Surface Subterfuge

Getting to Concord takes longer than it normally would, and mostly due to Piper's insistence on sticking to the shadows. While she can't claim to know Preston _that_ well, she did get the chance to spend some time with him during Blue's first visit to the Institute. He really doesn't strike her as the type to go all cryptic for no good reason, so whatever his reason _is,_ expecting it to be a valid one is probably a pretty safe bet.

Several things struck her about the message on Radio Freedom. For one, no names were mentioned, and for another, the location was provided in a way that would have very few people indeed translating it to a physical place. With that in mind, it isn't much of a leap to the idea of someone looking for them – or for Blue, specifically – or to the fact that whoever the someone is, they're powerful enough to have Preston concerned, and to have Piper glad of the signing she and Blue have long since developed as a secondary method of communication; something they now fall back on the second one of them senses the _slightest_ chance of anyone else being nearby.

“You're sure it's Preston?” Blue asks in a bare murmur as they pick their way along Concord's debris-littered alleyways; half-climbing over a pile of broken planks and barrels before reaching a hand out to Piper.

“As sure as I can be.” She takes the hand and is honestly glad of the extra support as she maneuvers her way across the rickety obstacle; first by way of the hand in her own, and then by a steadying touch to her side. “Who else would try to reach you via the Minutemen's radio station?”

“Mph.” There's an acknowledging sort of tightening at the corner of Blue's mouth. “True. What if you're wrong, though?”

“Then he won't be at the museum.” Piper places her feet carefully as they make their way to the end of the alley, and scans what she can see beyond it with her eyes without actually poking her head out into the open “And I'll honestly breathe a lot easier if that's the case.”

“Yeah?” Blue is kneeling beside her; her rifle across her lap and its scope in her hand. “Why?”

The shade, at least, is something she can appreciate, so Piper leans against a wall and watches Blue do a much more through scan of their surroundings through the detached scope. “Gut feeling, more than anything,” she admits. “You ever get those?”

“Yes,” is the answer. Surprising, since Piper honestly expected someone as logically minded as Blue to not put much stock in such things. “Not often, but I've found it's usually best to listen to it when it happens.”

Now she's curious – hell, she always is; especially where Blue is concerned – but she at least remembers to speak at a whisper. “When did you last listen?”

Blue is pressing against the alley's opposite wall to take a long look down the road, but pauses long enough to look up at her. “Have you ever been to Pickman's gallery?”

Pickman's gallery. Piper wracks her brain, but in spite of having stuck her nose in enough things to recognize most places she hears of, this time she comes up empty. “No; can't say I have.”

“Good.” The scope is obscuring a good part of Blue's face from this angle, but Piper can still make out the faint motion of her jaw setting. “I recommend you keep it that way.”

Aha. “Dangerous?” she hazards; scooting back a foot or so as Blue moves over to her side to aim her scope in the opposite direction.

“Not anymore,” is the low reply. “To anyone other than raiders.”

Well, that's about as clear as mud. “Blue.” She sets a light hand on the nearby shoulder, and uses her thumb to give the tense muscle a little rub. “Remember who you're talking to, okay? You can't just give me snippets if you're trying to warn me. That'll only make me more curious.”

“Mm; good point.” That, at least, makes a tiny tug of amusement appear at the corner of Blue's mouth as she slips the scope back into place on her rifle and gets to her feet. “Looks clear,” she notes in a more normal tone of voice, and settles the rifle across her back with a sigh. “Pickman is... very sick. Back in my day, he'd have either ended up in a high-security mental institution, or on death row if Massachusetts hadn't abolished the death penalty.”

Piper eyes her curiously. “Sicker than raiders?” she wonders as she follows Blue into the open; feeling the heat of the sun almost like a physical push as they make their way down the abandoned road towards the museum. “Than people who cut up their victims and either hang their bodies from chains or stick them on spikes?”

“Yes.” Blue sticks a hand into her pack, and extracts something fast enough that it _must_ have been sitting in a side pocket; a small piece of paper, which she then offers to Piper with another little jump of the tendon in her jaw.

She hesitates for a second because of that – it takes a good amount to get to Blue at this point – but accepts the small card. It seems relatively innocent, she muses as she turns it over; reading nothing more than _Thanks, Killer_ above a heart that's obviously been drawn with the tip of a finger. Except...

“That's blood.”

“Yes.” Low, and in a voice that's a little rougher than she's used to hearing it. “The last time I listened to my gut was after I saved Pickman from the raiders who wanted to kill him, and got to look into his eyes for a split second. Just...” They climb the few steps to the museum's front door, and Blue shivers visibly. “Madness.”

Piper curls a hand around her best friend's elbow, and gives the inside of it a few, soothing strokes of her fingers. “He come after you, after that?”

“No.” Blue pulls the door open by a bare inch and peers inside; going quiet for several seconds before apparently deciding that things look safe and letting them both in. “Probably would have been easier if he had. It's one thing to kill someone because they're attacking you, you know?”

She does indeed. “So you left.”

“As fast as I could without outright running.” The door clicks shut behind them, and Blue spends a few seconds standing so still that she doesn't even seem to be breathing; head cocked and gaze flitting from one point to the next. Then – apparently satisfied – she takes an audible breath, and Piper feels the tension drain from her shoulders.

And jumps herself.

“ _Have your tea back, you... jackanapes!”_

“Sorry.” Blue places a hand in the space between her shoulders. “Should have remembered to mention that. They're just old recordings.”

“Right.” She takes a deep breath and waits for her heartbeat to settle; peering around the inside of the half-lit building and trying to imagine what it looked like before all the destruction. “You know, I think you just like startling me.”

That earns her that faint, twitching grin she likes so much, as well as a slight shrug of Blue's shoulders. “Maybe,” she half-admits, and gives Piper's back a little rub. “This really wasn't on purpose, though.”

“Uh huh.” Piper sends her a tolerant look, but takes the offered hand as they make their way through the old exhibits to sounds recorded centuries ago. “When did you run into this Pickman guy, anyway? I've been hot on your heels for months, and I'm pretty sure I'd remember that story.”

“I wish I could forget it, some days,” is the dry answer; Blue nudging a fallen mannequin out of their way with her foot. “Nothing like seeing a guy use body parts for sculpture and blood for paint to bring home how relative sanity is.”

Jesus. “Yeah, I'd _definitely_ remember hearing about that, if nothing else.”

“Didn't really want to bring it up back then,” comes the quiet admission as they make their way upstairs. “It happened before we even did that interview.”

“The first one?” Piper waits for the nod, and whistles softly. “Wow. Y'know, I wondered what the hell you got up to during that week.”

“Was it really only a week?” Blue frowns at her, and then at the hallway once they reach the top of the stairs. “Sure felt like a lot more.”

Piper uses the tips of her fingers to idly stroke the back of the hand she holds, but elects not to actually say anything. She gets it, after all; knows how a single second of realizing the true potential for cruelty in the human race can feel like months, and it certainly explains the hardened look in Blue's eyes when she saw her for the second time.

“Hey.” She tugs her to a stop at the base of the second flight of stairs, and waits for their eyes to meet. “I'm sorry you had to see that.”

Blue's mouth twitches into a small smile. “Not your fault, Piper.”

“No; I know. But--” A sigh, and she's reaching up a hand; stroking a finger over the bisected eyebrow and feeling Blue lean into the touch. “Still. Y'know?”

“I know.”

A soft cough makes them both turn their heads, and Piper's stomach drops to see Preston standing at the top of the stairs and watching them with a half-smile. Not that she isn't glad to see him, but he looks like he hasn't had the chance to shave in about two weeks, and she _really_ hoped that her gut was wrong. Just this once.

“Man, am I glad to see the two of you,” he sighs; clasping first Blue's hand and then Piper's as they climb the stairs to reach him. “You couldn't have come by sooner and saved me a potential ulcer?”

“Radio Freedom doesn't exactly transmit to the inside of the Institute,” Blue tells him.

“Ah.” Preston grunts in understanding, and then waves them after him down another hall and into the room Piper guesses to be the one where Blue and he first met. It also seems to be the one where he's been staying; based on the sleeping bag on the ratty couch, the empty food tins and the hotplate that holds a scuffed coffee pot. “Planning on spending a lot of time underground, General?” he then asks; moving over to the coffee pot and busying himself with filling three cups. “Might not be the worst idea, at the moment.”

“Oh, this is gonna be a fun conversation,” Piper mutters; dropping to a seat on the couch and returning the half-grin Preston sends her. “I can just tell.”

“Mm.” Blue secures two of the filled cups before moving over to sit next to her, with Preston remaining by the hot plate and leaning against the desk it's sitting on. “I guess your gut had a point,” she notes tiredly; handing one cup over to Piper before sipping from her own and regarding Preston evenly. “What's going on?”

“The Brotherhood is looking for you,” is the answer, and Piper closes her eyes and feels her guts clench. “They're playing relatively nice for now, but I'm not sure they're gonna keep that up forever.”

“Shit.” Piper sighs the expletive more than speaks it, and rests her cup on one knee while rubbing at her temples. “So they figured out the connection to Institute, huh?”

“Or at least that the General has access,” Preston agrees. “And they want it; enough that they're also looking for you, Major.”

Major? Piper stares at him for a few heartbeats, and then bats the title away with a shake of her head because that really isn't what she should be focusing on right now. “I'm potential bait, huh?”

“Something like that.” Preston drops his gaze to the cup in his hands, and there's an uncomfortable little tug at the corner of his – at the moment – bearded mouth. “I think pretty much everyone figures that the General would come running if you were in trouble.”

“Points for being able to use basic logic, then,” Blue notes; her voice a little tighter than usual and one hand coming over to curl around Piper's knee. “How long have they been looking?”

“First I heard of it was about three weeks ago.” There's a low _click_ as Preston turns the hot plate off. “Couple of them stopped by Sanctuary.” Meaning that that's out as somewhere to check up on during their time topside, Piper figures. “Guards on watch called me out to the gate, and let me tell you, these folks were eager to talk to you.”

“I bet.” Blue's voice is bordering on a raw growl – probably due to what is essentially still her home being threatened - and Piper covers the hand on her knee with her own.

“I sent a couple of our better soldiers out looking for you after the Brotherhood left.” Preston perches on the edge of the desk and sends them a wry look. “Guess now I know why none of them found you, but Arslan did mention running into someone who seemed to know a bit about it; said something about a guy named Brandis who thought you should probably stay low as long as you could.”

Brandis. Piper cocks her head and frowns. “Older guy, kinda grizzled; gray hair and beard?” she quizzes. “Tall, and somewhere between thin and athletic?”

Preston nods. “Sounds about like the guy Arslan described to me.”

“Paladin Brandis,” Blue identifies on the tail end of a long breath; her hand loosening under Piper's hold as she sinks back into the couch. “I wonder if he came down fully on our side, or if he's just trying to return a favor.”

“I'm hoping it's the former.” Piper takes the chance to slip her hand under Blue's so they're palm to palm, and gives the warm skin a little squeeze. “He seemed to have some doubts about the Brotherhood he returned to, near as I could tell."

“So he might be trying to work on Maxson and the others from behind the scenes,” Blue translates, and waits for Piper to nod. “What about Danse? Hell, Haylen.”

She takes a moment to consider that; turning over in her head what she knows of both the people and the Brotherhood as a whole, which makes her – grudgingly, at least – appreciate the time they spent aboard the Prydwen and the insight it offered her. “Haylen is a fan of yours, I'm pretty sure,” she eventually decides, and smiles at the definite _look_ that phasing earns her. “Blue, she _is._ She's just also pretty low in terms of rank, and probably doesn't have a lot of clout. Danse is... a wildcard. I'm not really sure where he'll end up.”

“And we can't really be sure if Brandis _is_ on our side,” is the answer; followed by a grunt when Piper's mouth twists in agreement. “Alright. So what do we do?”

That, Piper thinks, is a damned good question.

 


	55. Moment 055: Preventive Measures

“Okay.” Blue sets her chin on one loosely curled first; her other hand idly twirling a pencil as she eyes the list they've composed. “So, locations to avoid: Any settlements under Minutemen protection, the castle, _definitely_ the Prydwen, and generally any place where we see signs of a Brotherhood presence.”

“Honestly, General?” Preston leans a little harder on the desk they've crowded around. “I think the safest option for you two is to just go back to the Institute, rather than play the avoidance game up here. Give this whole thing some time to blow over.”

“Possibly.” The end of the pencil taps at the desk several times, and there's a slight smile pulling at Blue's lips when her eyes cut to Piper. “But I don't think either of us are much into running away, and besides, I'd prefer to not be out of reach if things get worse, or even if they decide to back off.”

“If,” Piper repeats from her perch on the edge of the desk, because she is anything but sure that they will. She knows that she's being quiet; knows, too, that Blue has noticed, because it rarely takes more than minute between the light touches that brush against her knee or side or hand in silent question. So she takes a breath. “We should probably add Diamond City to the list, too.”

That earns her a small frown. “You think so?” Blue fiddles some more with the pencil in her hand; spinning it in slow circles around her middle finger. “I mean... sure, walking in the front gates is probably a bad idea, but we can relay in, can't we? Hide it by going directly into either Publick Occurrences or Home Plate?”

“Can we?” This time, Piper catches the hand that reaches out for her. “Because I remember Danse talking about odd readings of a strong, intermittent signal caused by a high level of technology.”

Blue stills, and watches her for a long moment. “You think they're picking up on the energy bursts caused by the relay.”

“Yeah.” Piper ducks her head, and watches herself play with the fingers in her grasp. “I don't know if they can pinpoint the surface locations it's aimed at yet, but I think that even if they can't, they'll probably be able to, eventually.” She swallows twice, and is very aware of the two sets of eyes resting on her. “And if they're already looking to use me to get to you, then how long is it gonna be before they figure out that they can use Nat to get to me?”

 _Snap!_ The sharp sound makes her head jerk up, and it's to the sight of Blue now holding two _halves_ of a pencil; one between her index- and middle fingers, and the other between her middle- and ring fingers.

She looks, Piper decides, completely nonplussed by it, too.

“Uh.” Blue's eyes flit from her own hand to Piper's face and back several times before her shoulders move in a sheepish sort of shrug. “Sorry?”

In spite of herself, Piper chuckles, and reaches out to take the pieces from her. “Babe, please don't break the stationary.”

“Mph. Wasn't on purpose.” Blue flexes her fingers a few times; turning her hand over and studying it mostly like she's never seen it before, and then giving her head a little shake. “You really think they'll go after Nat?”

“Maybe not right now.” She fiddles with the pencil; fitting the broken ends together and feeling both Blue's hand on her knee and Preston's eyes on her face. “But in a few weeks or months, with how badly they want to get a hold of you? I think it's possible.”

“Damn.” Preston blows out a breath and scrubs a hand over his face. “I can take her to Sanctuary,” he then suggests. “Get her out of DC, at least.”

Piper appreciates the offer, but still shakes her head. “I think it's pretty safe to say that they've probably already got eyes on the city, since it sure isn't a secret that we both spend a lot of time there,” she explains quietly. “So they'd notice if Nat left; it's not like we can take her out of there unseen.”

“Unless we use the relay,” Blue notes, and then sighs. “And we can't do _that_ without me going in to get her and either having them pick up on the use of me relaying in, or possibly have them try to grab me on the way if I walk.”

“Mm.” She studies the worn eraser on one end of the pencil, and uses it to rub at her forehead. “Even if we _could_ get her out, there's not a whole lot of places we can hide her where they wouldn't eventually find her.” A thought strikes her, and she bites at the metal holding the eraser as her gaze shifts to the wall. “At least... not up here.”

There's a short silence, and then a brief tightening of the hand on her knee that brings her attention back around. “You want to take her to the Institute?”

“I want to take her somewhere _safe,”_ Piper corrects. “And believe me, the irony of _that_ being the best bet isn't lost on me.”

“Okay.” Blue gives her a little pat, and Piper watches her eyes turn inward as she presumably turns over this new problem in her head. “So if we can't send me in, we need to send someone else; either with this--” She lifts her left arm; indicating her personal Pip-Boy. “-- or some other way of getting out with Nat by using the relay.”

“Pip-Boys are rare enough that anyone wearing them are noticed very quick,” Piper points out. “You know the amount of comments you get on it when you're out and about in Diamond City.” She waits for Blue's nose to twitch in agreement, and pinches the bridge of her own. “And sending someone completely new into the Institute probably isn't the best bet, either. Nat's going to be freaked out already; I'd at least like the person _with_ her to have some idea of what to expect.” For a few seconds, she simply gnaws at her own lip and feels the knot of worry in her guts. Then she puffs out a breath, and gives one of the fingers on her knee a tug. “How much do you trust X6?”

Blue leans back in the creaking chair and scratches her chin. “I don't think it's a matter of trust, so to speak,” she muses, a touch hesitantly. “I know that some synths are capable of achieving sentience and that some – like Glory – already have, but...” Her head shakes slowly. “I don't think X6 is one of them. At least not right now.”

“Mm.” Piper considers that, and briefly cuts her eyes to Preston, who has taken up the task of holding up a nearby wall with his shoulder as he watches them silently. “I haven't spent a lot of time around him, but I agree. He's all machine.”

“Yes.” A nod. “One under my control. So while I can't technically say that I 'trust' him, I know he'll do what I ask.”

“Okay.” She pushes herself off the desk and to her feet. “Next issue, then; somehow convincing Nat to go _with him_ without either you or me being able to actually talk to her face to face and explain why.”

“Ah.” Blue seems to understand the problem, going by the frown she aims at the wall ahead of her. “Yeah. Even if we have him enter the city looking like something other than an Institute courser, she doesn't know him.” She turns to Preston, and studies him for a moment before smiling faintly. “And she doesn't know you, either; at least not enough to trust you this much,” she tell him, almost apologetically. “But I'd still like you to go there, if you're willing. Keep an extra set of eyes on her until we can get her out.”

“Sure.” Preston shrugs easily, and gives his bearded chin a slow rub. “I figure I should at least be able to get a shave there.”

Piper is half-listening to them talk, but mostly focusing on figuring out a way to get her little sister to safety. X6 – via his courser chip – can relay them both into the Institute and thereby remove Nat from anywhere the Brotherhood can easily reach her, but she knows her sister enough – has _taught her_ enough – that Nat won't trust just anyone, and will almost certainly either scream bloody murder or fight tooth and nail if someone tries to take her away without a very good explanation. Piper herself can't reach her to _provide_ that explanation without endangering her further, and while that knowledge makes her heart ache to the point of distraction, she has to push it back to be able to focus.

“Blue?”

“Mm?”

“Did you say you could get a message to Nick on that thing?”

Blue eyes her Pip-Boy when Piper points to it. “Theoretically, yes,” she assents; if a bit uncertainly. “Wh-- ah.” A pause right after she stops herself. “You want to use him as a go-between?”

“It's the best option I can think of.” Piper folds arm across her chest and rubs at her forehead in hopes of staving off the building headache. “Nat trusts him, at least.”

“Alright; we can certainly try it.” Blue hikes one knee over the other and folds her hands; her thumbs slowly circling each other. “But since he can't talk back to us regardless, I think we should also send Preston anyway. That way, if our message doesn't go through, he can explain things to Nick.”

“Okay.” Piper nods and takes a breath. “So we need to account for a few days of traveling time, too. Probably three to be safe.” She cocks her head at Preston. “That should be time enough for you to get to the city and find Nick, right?”

“Should be.” Preston's dark head dips in a brief nod. “Though I wouldn't recommend that you two hang around here in the meantime. We're a little too close to Sanctuary for comfort, and the Brotherhood's probably keeping an eye on that, too.”

“Probably.” There's a sour little tug at the corner of Blue's mouth, followed by a hard, frustrated breath as she runs her hands through her hair. “Jesus. Okay. So we also need to find someplace else to go.” Her eyebrows twitch faintly. “Not to mention get there, and stay there without being spotted.”

“And probably find a way of having an actual conversation with Nick,” Piper adds with a sigh of her own. “No offense, Preston, but I'm not sure _he_ knows you well enough to trust you, either.”

“None taken,” is the peaceful answer. “And no offense in return, but wherever you ladies go, I'll ask that you don't let me in on it. What I don't know can't be forced out of me.”

“Urngh.” Blue pushes herself to a stand and stalks over to the coffee pot; agitation in every line of her body as she fills a cup. “This whole thing feels like a Silver Shroud episode based on a particularly bad issue of the US Covert Operations Manual.”

Piper almost laughs, because she's read the few of those that Blue has picked up, and _God,_ isn't that the truth. “Oh yeah.” She pulls her cap off and sets it on the table, and pushes her hair back with one hand as she turns to Preston. “So; new plan. Don't explain the whole situation to Nick. Just tell him that two of your mutual friends need his help, and that they've gone to look for a little slice of trouble.” Blue – going by the quirked eyebrow – knows exactly what she means, and Piper only barely manages to bite back a smile. “He should be able to figure out the rest.”

“Can do.” Preston accepts the cup that Blue hands him, and takes a hefty swallow of its contents. “I'll head out after this, then. No sense in wasting daylight.”

“Want some company on the way?” Blue asks, and then seems to reconsider even as she finishes speaking. “Shit. No, that probably wouldn't be a good idea, would it?”

“Probably not, General.” The response is in a gentle tone, though, and the clasp Preston gives Blue's shoulder no less so. “No reason to bandy about the fact that the two of you are out roaming the wilds again; let alone that I know it and haven't gone running to the Brotherhood. Which reminds me.” He drains the cup fully this time and sets it down, and then crosses over to the couch to pick up a satchel sitting beside it. “I took the liberty of grabbing some clothes from your storage back at Sanctuary.” The satchel is offered to Blue, who takes it with a curious tilt of her head. “Figured that if you needed to lay low, those regular outfits of yours are a little to easy to identify; even at a distance.”

A red trenchcoat and a bright blue, vault jumpsuit? Yeah, Piper can definitely see his point. And appreciate his foresight. “Thanks, Preston.”

“Anytime.” He gives a half-way embarrassed, little shrug. “I wasn't sure what your plans were gonna be, so I grabbed a little bit of everything.”

“I'll say,” Blue interjects, and Piper looks over because her voice has that sort of trembly quality that means that she wants to laugh, but isn't sure if that's an acceptable thing to do. When Blue pull somethings free of the satchel, though, Piper gets it; enough that she has to smother a grin of her own. “Where were you expecting us to need a sequined dress?”

“Hey, I don't know about that stuff!” Preston defends, with his cheeks darkening a little. “I just figured I'd play it safe; especially with how most ladies I've come across like having more options.”

“I guess that's fair.” Blue extracts the dress fully, and sets the satchel aside before letting the fine fabric unfold across her lap in shimmer of silver and green. Then she grins, and lifts her eyes to Piper's. “I wanna see you in this.”

Piper can practically feel her ears burning, but lets her mouth tug into a smirk anyway. “Priorities, Blue.”

“Heh.”

 


	56. Moment 056: Voicemail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only a loosely related one: In my case, constructive criticism is _always welcome._ If something doesn't make sense/wasn't explained properly, if something about the story seems off, if you feel that I could have handled Problem A better by choosing (painfully obvious but sadly overlooked because I'm scatterbrained and easily distracted) Solution Z or anything else, please tell me. We may have to agree to disagree, but I will at the _very_ least take your opinion into consideration.
> 
> Meanwhile, I'll do better at actually replying to you guys, because I've been neglecting that a whole bunch and that ain't cool. If you get (or have already gotten) a random response to a comment you left about forever ago, that's why. =P

The armor feels weird as hell, Piper decides, but straps the various bits of leather into place anyway. Of course, it might not be the armor so much as the road leathers that she selected from the many,  _many_ options in Preston's hastily packed satchel, because God knows that they fit a good deal differently than the trench coat she exchanged them for. That, after all, she had years to wear in. These? Maybe twenty minutes so far.

Needs must, however, so she and Blue are both dressing themselves more like the average scavver would. Their regular clothes – and in Blue's case, her combat armor – were all handed over to Preston; along with a good amount of the items he'd brought along and the satchel he'd brought them in. They're aren't  _expecting_ to be stopped and searched but better safe than sorry, and lugging around what probably amounts to fifteen pounds of clothing seems a little excessive for anyone not making a beeline for Fallon's Basement.

So Preston is carrying that, and will hand over the few, everyday items to Nick when he sees him. Nick, then, can bring them with him, and Blue has made enough jokes about prohibition and speakeasies that Piper clearly needs to find out just what the hell she's talking about.

Blue kept a hold of the dress, though; as well as – Piper guesses from the slight, extra bulge to her pack – a few other things that she never even got a glance at.

Definitely up to something. But whatever that something is, Piper doubts that she'll mind, and is content enough to let Blue have her little secret; even with her out of the room and her pack sitting  _right there._ So instead of snooping, she blows a lock of hair out of her eyes and works the buckle on a piece of leg armor with a scowl; tightening it, straightening to take a few steps, and then propping her foot back up on the seat of a chair to loosen it again just when the door creaks open.

The sound of Blue's footsteps stops about half a second later. “Preston's off. Everything okay?”

“Close enough.” Piper cants her head until she can see the curious look from the corner of her eye, and gives the straps another wiggle. “I'm just not used to wearing this stuff, so I'm having trouble finding out how to have it tight but not _too_ tight, and it's driving me a little batty.”

“Ah.” The footsteps resume, and approach until there is dark, scuffed denim and worn, sun-bleached flannel at the edge of her vision. “Want a hand?”

“Please.”

“Okay.” Blue tugs her upright before nudging her to a seat on the chair; then drops to her knees and pulls one of Piper's booted feet into her lap. Her hands, meanwhile, slip over Piper's calf; up and back until they reach the straps, and then carefully push at them. “Mm.” A soft grunt, and she goes about loosening the buckles further with an ease born from long practice. “Too tight. This much, you're cutting off enough blood flow that your feet would be screaming in a hour.”

“Wasn't exactly comfortable,” Piper admits.

“It probably won't be, anyway,” is the apologetic answer; Blue adjusting the placement of the leg piece until it's sitting a little higher. “Not really, when you're not used to wearing it.”

That makes sense. “How long did it take you to get used to it?” she wonders, and studies the simple shirt and jeans that Blue has changed into; sans armor, unlike Piper herself, but with the addition of several streaks of dirt on her usually clean face, and her hair once again pulled back.

“Hm.” Blue doesn't actually look up, but her head gives a considering little tilt. “I think... a week?” she hedges; slipping one finger under the top strap as if testing before tightening it a little further. “The first time. Not really sure. I just--” A shrug, and her fingers move to the lower strap. “-- wore it around Sanctuary; trying to adjust. Don't remember how long for, exactly. Time sort of went fuzzy.”

Piper bites her lip, because she tried to imagine what that must have been like on several, separate occasions. She doubts that she has even come close to the reality of it, but has also never truly felt comfortable enough to ask outright.

Now, though... “What was that even like for you?”

Several seconds pass in silence; Blue finishing up her fiddling on Piper's left leg piece and then shifting her right foot into her lap to start over. “Hell,” then comes the simple answer, along with a brief lift of Blue's eyes that brings to Piper's mind another moment that featured that very same tone of voice.

“ _Wouldn't be the first time.”_

“I'd left my house not even an hour earlier.” The right leg piece is also loosened, but moved a fraction lower instead of higher. “A brand new house, in a brand new neighborhood where the road had only been laid maybe half a year before. The next time I see Sanctuary Hills, it's been 210 years in the blink of an eye and everything is gone.”

“Hey.” Piper reaches out to touch her face, because there's still something about this quality to Blue's voice that just... _hurts her_ , somewhere very far down. “Blue, forget I asked, okay? You don't have to expl--”

“I want to.” Soft but certain, and when Blue _does_ look up from her task, there's a small, tired sort of smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. “Need to, maybe. I'm just not-- good at this.”

“Talking about how you feel?”

“Mm.” The last buckle is closed, and Blue must be satisfied with the way the leg pieces fit now since she stops worrying at them; instead simply folding her hands around Piper's shin and leaving them there. “Explaining how I feel, anyway. Or why. Up here--” She taps at her temple with one finger. “-- something is usually just either right or wrong. I can't always put words to _why_ it is that way; I just know that it is.”

Piper leans forward enough that she can tuck an escaped lock of hair behind a warm ear, and tries a crooked smile. “Gut feeling?”

Blue chuckles softly, and something in her eyes seems to grow a little lighter. “Something like that.”

“Okay.” She gives one smooth cheek a gentle kiss, and then pulls back enough for their eyes to meet. “Need some more time to think about explaining it?”

“Maybe.” The look she gets in response is somewhere between hesitant and relieved. “But shouldn't six months be long enough?”

“That's relative.” Piper quirks a somewhat sardonic eyebrow. “Took me almost ten years to talk to anyone about how it felt to lose my dad.”

For a long moment, Blue simply watches her. “You mean when you told me about it.”

“Mmhm.” There's a warm hand settling on her knee, and Piper covers it with her own because she doesn't want it to move away. “So I'm going to be the absolute _last_ person to rush you into anything. Alright?”

Instead of giving a vocal response, Blue's answer is the press of her palm against Piper's knee as she slowly rises; her body unfurling from the knees on up until Piper has to lean back in the chair to make room. Even so, Blue just leans after her; forward, with her free hand curling around the edge of the seat by Piper's hip and those eyes not leaving her own even when they're nose to nose and Piper herself feels like she's going a little cockeyed.

“May I kiss you?”

She chuckles in sheer surprise, and finds a fold of shirt to tug. “Since when do you ask?”

“Since we discussed a subject heavy enough that perhaps you'd prefer a hug.” Blue's eyes twinkle gently. “Is that a yes?”

Piper frowns in faux-thought. “I honestly can't think of a single situation where I'd say no to a kiss from you,” she decides, and only avoids laughing at the poke to the inside of her knee because Blue ducks the rest of the way.

It isn't hard, the press of her mouth; isn't hot or heavy or insistent. It is, in fact, gentle and  _light_ and tastes of a thousand thank yous that maybe Blue just can't quite find a way to put into words, so instead she does this; letting their lips catch and meld and softly glide until Piper's heart feels like it's melting and she has to cup that lovely face just to remind herself that  _this is real_ .

“Just so you know?” Blue murmurs; still close enough that Piper can feel the motion of her lips shaping the words. “You are every kind of right.”

So simply spoken into the quiet room; right there amidst dust and trash and the broken remnants of a lost world, and Piper has to blink several times to ease her stinging eyes. “Likewise,” she tells her softly, and if her voice is a little hoarse then neither of them see a need to mention it. “Y'know, for some someone who claims to have trouble finding words, you sure have a gift for robbing me of mine.”

A grin against her cheek becomes a kiss pressed there, and Blue is looking entirely too pleased when she sits back on her haunches. “Balance?”

“Uh-huh.” Piper tries for annoyance, but guesses from the poked-out tongue that she's probably crossing way too far into fondness to be believed. “Were we still gonna try to get a message to Nick?”

“Yes.” Blue accepts the change of subject, though not without a small, satisfied smirk. “If nothing else, he'll know to expect Preston. Maybe even be waiting for him and get to set off himself that much sooner.” Her expression sobers. “And able to keep a closer eye on Nat until then.”

True. Not that Piper doubts the Diamond City guards' ability to keep everyone safe, but Nick is a friend and so is trusted on a very different level. “You think it'll work?”

“It should,” is the thoughtful answer. “Although with Nick potentially being a one-off prototype, there _is_ a chance that his hardware is different enough to be out of reach.”

In which case the message will simply be carried by Preston, instead of by radio waves. “Okay.” She rises from the chair and gives the top of Blue's head a kiss as she slips around her. “You send the message; I'll pace and try not to drive myself crazy thinking about what-ifs.”

Blue send her a curious look for that one. “How many what-ifs have you thought up?”

“Would you prefer me to list them in order of probability, or in descending degree of danger?”

For a full three seconds, Blue frowns at the empty chair. Then she shakes her head, and simply focuses on the Pip-Boy. “Never mind.”

Smart choice, Piper muses - not that that truly surprises her – because one of them going a little nuts with worry is probably one too many, already. There are so many  _angles_ that trying to keep them all straight is making her head feel increasingly muddled; the Minutemen's willingness, but inability to hide her sister; the Brotherhood's eventual try at grabbing her in lieu of Piper herself; the risks involved in sending Nat to  _the Institute_ to keep her safe because it is, at least, the lesser of  _two_ evils at the moment... she is at once scared to the edge of her wits and and well aware that they have every chance of getting Nat out of harm's way without incident.

It's all very confusing, and so Piper paces; back and forth across the dusty floors, and so preoccupied with trying to clear her head that she doesn't even notice Blue finishing the attempted transmission to Nick until she almost walks headfirst into her. Or... she  _does_ walk headfirst into her, but since that turns into a hug and Blue rarely does anything without carefully thinking about it, Piper guesses that she was probably intercepted on purpose.

That's fine, she decides; sinking into the contact and feeling the slow rhythm of Blue's breathing both against her own chest, under the hand she splays over the center of the shirt-covered back, and by way of the steady breathing warming the side of her face. Blue does damn near everything well, and that most definitely includes hugging.

“I'm sorry.”

Piper doesn't ask what for. “I don't blame you, Blue,” she murmurs instead; taking a long breath filled with the familiar scent of her best friend's skin, as well as the new addition of the clean – if storage-tinted – scent of the new wardrobe choice. “You know that.”

“I know.” Softly, though; on the tail end of a slow sigh and with the press of a nose into her hair. “Maybe _I_ blame me.”

“Well, don't.” She tries for a lighter tone, but guesses by the doubtful look she gets when she straightens that Blue isn't buying it. “You're just trying to do the right thing.”

“Mm.” The sound is more consideration than agreement, and Blue's mouth gives a little twist. “But at what price?”

“There's always a price for this sort of thing.”

“There doesn't have to be.”

Piper chuckles, and turns the back of Blue's collar up with a twitch of her fingers because it matches the rakishness of the split eyebrow. “What; like you'd turn your back on the entire Commonwealth and everyone in it simply for my sake?”

She doesn't get a verbal answer. What she  _does_ get, though, is a long, steady look that has those eyes completely focused on her own; deep and gentle and  _direct_ , and filled with nothing but the utmost certainty.

“Blue...” Hell with robbing her of words; this woman has a way of somehow robbing her of _air_. “I'm not worth that.”

“Yes, you are.” Low and sure, and with a slow stroke of Blue's knuckles over her cheek that makes her skin tingle. “You are worth everything.”

The strangest thing about that, Piper decides a little dizzily, is probably the fact that she believes her. Still. “That's not something I want,” she tells her quietly. “You, me and Nat heading off would probably be better for us, but it's not fair to everyone else.”

“I kind of figured you'd say that.” Blue's smile is small, but warm. “And I agree, but I wanted to put the offer on the table. You were far enough gone that you didn't even notice me contacting X6, too.”

“Ah.” Piper wrinkles her nose, but accepts her pack when Blue holds it out to her before shouldering her own. “He meeting us in Goodneighbor?”

“No.” Blue leads the way down the stairs and through the crumbling museum. “I asked him to go into Diamond City disguised as a scavver. He'll keep an eye on Nat, but not actually approach her until Nick comes back from meeting with us.”

Their voices lower the second they exchange the cool shadows for the warm sunlight outside, and Piper watches with ill-disguised fascination as Blue's entire way of moving changes; going from the relaxed, audible step of someone who feels safe to the rolling, feather-light tread of a person well used to danger. “He's not gonna go synth-hunting, is he?”

Blue shakes her head, but also lets a crooked smile slip free. “No. His focus is on Nat.” Her fingers fold around the pistol at her hip; not actually pulling it free, but still keeping a hold of it as they walk. “I also asked him to talk to Shaun before he goes; maybe find some quarters with an extra bedroom so Nat can stay with us, though for the first couple of days--”

“She'll probably need to stay with someone else,” Piper finishes, and waits for the nod. “You think Allie would mind?”

That earns her a sidelong, narrow look. “You reading my mind again, pipsqueak?”

“Would you stop calling me that?”

“Hm.” Blue cranes her head back to send a pensive look at the sky. “No.”

“Dork.” Piper sighs, but reaches out to give the nearby ear a tweak. “Some day, I'm gonna tickle your full, pre-war name out of you, and lady, I am going to use it every chance I get.”

“Promises, promises.”

 


	57. Moment 057: Just Listen

This time, reaching Goodneighbor takes a good deal longer. Brotherhood presence increases dramatically once they cross into the ruins of Boston, and while they also get a lot more options for cover than the wasteland has to offer, Piper is still glad that Preston thought far enough ahead to bring disguises. The northern part of the Commonwealth has been pretty much cleared of anything dangerous thanks to both them and the expanding Minutemen, but Boston? Yeah, no; not just yet.

They try to avoid firefights; to sneak around any raider encampments or a least take them down quietly, and mostly manage because Blue has been on edge since they first found themselves needing to hide, which means that her already hyper-driven hearing has somehow gotten even _more_ sensitive. Piper does what she can to help keep her calm, and has thankfully figured out a few tricks to that end long ago.

The press of her palm to the small of her best friend's back is one of them. “Anything?”

Blue's eyes cut to her, and then resumes flicking from shadow to shadow as she herself remains in the partial cover of a dark alley. “That way.” A single finger points, and her ears are all but physically twitching. “Raiders. Camp, but doesn't sound like a big one, so probably new.”

“How the hell do you _do that?”_ Piper half-hisses. “All I can hear is the damn wind.”

Blue pauses in the middle of turning her head into the wind in question, and it mostly reminds Piper of telling her terminal back home to do too many things at once and watching it stutter as it strains to process. “How?”

“Yes.” Slowly, she rubs the base of her palm across the skin-warmed flannel and pushes the issue a little more; tries to coax Blue into explaining something and thereby centering her. “How do you hear them?”

“That's-- hm.” A pause, and now those eyes are on her with a calculating sort of glint in them. “You're trying to distract me.”

Well, nobody said that Blue wouldn't catch on to the methods eventually. “Kind of, yeah,” she admits, since there's no point in dissembling. “You've gotten progressively twitchier since we got here.”

“Mph.” Blue's head ducks. “Sorry.”

“Blue, we're playing hide and seek with probably the largest paramilitary organization around, and have been blessed with the added excitement of raiders, ferals, super mutants and mongrels around damn near every corner.” Piper curls her fingers around the shirt-covered waist, and kisses the nearby shoulder. “I'd be worried if you _weren't_ twitchy. I'm just also trying to keep you from going off the charts, y'know?”

Another soft grunt, but Blue doesn't push her away. In fact, one arm comes into its familiar position across Piper's shoulders, and they make their quiet way across a debris-ridden street. “I just feel... silly, maybe?” Blue hazards. “Shouldn't _you_ be the twitchier one?”

“Maybe.” She can't see the sun once they enter the next alley, and so instead eyes the length of the shadows and estimates there to be at least another few hours of daylight. “But I know Nat is under the watchful eyes of anywhere from one to three people we know, and I guess _my_ distraction is in trying to keep _you_ distracted.”

“Ah.” The arm around her shoulders tightens, and they pause long enough for an aluminum can to make its way into Blue's pack. “Layers.”

“Uh huh.” Piper doesn't fight the smile, but she does wonder, in a dusty little nook of her mind, at this woman's ability to turn the focus of the conversation back on Piper herself when just ten seconds ago, _she_ was the subject. “So spill, old-timer. How do you hear them?”

Blue makes another grunting-type noise, and Piper wonders if maybe she should get her a swatter next she gets the chance. “I just-- sounds are very good at catching my attention,” she explains; her fingers playing idly over the leather covering Piper's shoulder. “Too good, really. It's--” Her lips twitch; barely visible from the corner of Piper's eye. “-- distracting. So I've had to learn how to ignore a lot of the more usual sounds, or having to actively register them over and over would probably drive me crazy.”

“Okay.” They pause at the next street, and Piper can see the wider opening of Boston Common in the distance. “So walk me through it.”

“Well.” Blue sends a glance down either end of the street, and turns to face her a little better. “You said you hear the wind?”

“Sure.”

“Ignore it.” Gentle fingers brush over Piper's eyelids, nudging them to close. “You know what it is; you've heard it a thousand times. Filter it out.”

That's a lot more easily said than done, but she's willing to try. “Okay?”

“You hear the building next to us creaking?”

Piper has to take a second, but nods. “Yeah. It has a... rhythm?” she guesses; cocking her head a little and swaying with it. “Kind of follows the wind.”

“It does.” Blue sounds like she's smiling. “Ignore it. Gunshots in the distance?”

“Yeah.” She nods, and quirks an eyebrow without actually looking. “Let me guess: Ignore it?”

A soft chuckle tickles her hearing. “Finding the pattern, are you?”

“That's kind of what I _do,_ Blue. Just not usually in sounds.”

“Mm.” There's a warm fingertip tracing over her cheekbone. “So keep going, just like you would with tracking info for a story. Define something, decide if it's relevant, and file it away if it isn't.”

The faint clatter of something light and metallic tumbling across the tarmac. The low, steady push and pull of Blue's breathing. The clang of what sounds like a trash can falling shut. It takes enough concentrated effort to about make Piper's head hurt, but the warmth of Blue's body is a solid, patient presence at her side, so she digs deeper because it really isn't that different from not noticing the sound of her own breathing. All it takes is practice.

“Blue...” Her eyes flutter open in startled realization, and now she's the one to point; a thumb jutting over her shoulder while Blue watches her. “There are mongrels that way, aren't there?”

She has never in her life seen a grin so completely filled with pride. “Yes. There are.”

Holy shit. Piper guesses that maybe she looks as breathlessly staggered as she feels, because Blue tugs her in closer and kisses her cheek while the barest whisper of _I knew you could do it_ makes her skin tingle. That – picking one tiny sound from a thousand like finding a specific pebble in the aftermath of a landslide – was always part of Blue's brand of magic; something that she expected to be maybe a skill lost to time and nuclear radiation, like so many others. The fact that she – that _Piper_ – can do it, too?

Wow. Just wow.

“So. Raiders to the left and mongrels to the right.” Blue gives the back of her neck a little rub, and pulls back enough for Piper to see her dirt-streaked face. “Can we go straight and turn and still reach Goodneighbor, or do we need to find an alternate route?”

“I think-- yeah." She secures Blue's other arm – the left one – and feels a head lean against her own as she clicks into the map and studies it. “Here; about three blocks ahead. It'll probably take a little climbing from what I remember, but we should be able to get through.”

“So sayeth the native guide.” The arm around her shoulders becomes the press of gentle fingers against her spine. “Lead on, Kemosabe.”

Sometimes, it really feels like Blue is speaking a different language. “Kemo-whatnow?”

“Kee-mo-sah-bee,” Blue obligingly repeats; her head canting into the wind as they cross this street, too. “Something I picked up from an old television show, back before the war.”

“Aha.” Piper guides them around a fallen, dented trash can and into the next alley. “Do I want to know what it means, or is it an insult?”

“Since when do I insult you?” Long fingers fold around the back of Piper's belt as they walk. “I tend to reserve that for people whose company I _don't_ enjoy.”

“In my book, 'pipsqueak' counts as an insult.”

“Ah.” There's a brief silence. “Then I guess I see your point.”

“That mean you're gonna stop saying it?”

“No.”

“Thought so.” It's more amusement than anything else that makes her shake her head, at least, and she can make out the mild glint in Blue's eyes even from the corner of her own. “So what does it mean? Kemosabe.”

There are several, minute tugs at various parts of Blue's face; as if she can't quite decide whether she wants to smile or frown. “That... depends on who you ask. The first English translation I found – which is the one I meant it as, by the way – was 'trusted scout'.”

Piper waits long enough for them to take another ten steps, and then gives her best friend a little poke when nothing else is forthcoming. “And the others?”

“Erm.” Blue scratches at her chin, and seems very interested indeed in the ancient brickwork. “Anything from 'soggy shrub' to 'horse's ass'.”

“So glad you clarified.”

The quiet banter keeps her head clear, though; keeps her from dwelling on Nat or the Brotherhood or how she has basically been exiled from her home of who knows how many years in an attempt to keep it safe, and lets her focus on finding their roundabout way past the various dangers of long-gone Boston until they finally reach the neon-lit door to Goodneighbor. It isn't the _safest_ place for them to hide out by any means, but it's a guarded location that they aren't heavily tied to, and is largely made up of people who have no love for any outsiders trying to strong-arm their way to answers.

Any port in a storm, she muses, and nudges Blue inside as the first one before letting the door click shut behind them and sealing away the Commonwealth at large.

“Hold it right there, ladies.”

Then again, Piper decides as she eyes the neighborhood watchman and the submachinegun he's aiming at them, sometimes even the most unlikely port goes under.

“I don't suppose trying to shoot our way out of this is a good idea,” Blue murmurs.

“Wouldn't recommend it, lady.” A second watchman catches their attention, and gestures them forward. “On ya go. The Mayor wants a word.”

 


End file.
